operating upon an over-delicate taste, made him too often reject, what, if not rejected, might have made him happy. Tremaine's unsatisfied mind having induced him to reject the church, he endeavoured to find anchorage in the certainty of the law. Accordingly, for about twelve months he studied its philosophy in the moralists-its antiquities in the historians-and its rewards in the splendour which attends upon the eloquence of counsel, and the honours of the Bench. But he studied them in his lodgings in May Fair, not at the Temple: for except at the only dinner he ate in the Temple Hall, when he endeavoured to keep a term, he never was known to have been in an Inn of Court. He once, indeed, heard the Chancellor from the woolsack in the House of Lords, on a great constitutional question; and he once heard a distinguished popular advocate, in mitigation of the crime of a young woman of high birth, who, sacrificed by her family to a man she could not love, and who did not love her, fell, after a struggle, into the arms of a man who had always possessed her heart. It was the impression produced by these speeches that sent him to the law; but the bent of character above described soon sent him back again. His over-delicate and sickly fancy could not endure law society. The hard sense, indeed, which he there met with, sometimes arrested his understanding; but the pedantry in which it was attired absolutely petrified him. Spoiled by his prejudices, he stayed not to discover, as he might have done, the genius, taste, and real elegance of mind which belong to many, who are yet the most learned at the bar. As to their females,-having once ventured to one of their assemblies in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, he escaped, after an hour's purgatory, vowing never to see another; and no arguments of his friends could persuade him that happiness of any kind could be found in what he called such a second-rate profession. Though his patrimony was now almost exhausted, he betook himself to arms, and entered the Guards. Here at least he was sure of finding honourable feeling, polished manners, and gallantry of spirit. He made a campaign, and obtained distinction; that is, such distinction as a captain of a company could acquire. But from the lateness of his entry into the army, he had the mortification to find himself commanded by persons some years his juniors. It is true, his family interest placed him at head-quarters. But it was not there that he was always likely to feel satisfied. He was indeed remarked as a sort of frondeur, who was ever commending merit which others did not choose to allow, and advocating the claims of officers who had nothing but their friendlessness to recommend them Yet he was often forced to confess that even these by no means reached, in personal qualifications, the high notions he had formed of the military character; and some of them at last, abandoning him as their protector, got before him by the lowest arts of flattery, and the most vicious complaisance. This excited new disgusts. The whole constitution of the army, he said, was wrong; it was a mistake to suppose it composed of gentlemen; it neither rewarded nor ennobled its members. In this state of things, he came to a downright quarrel with his General (a relation of his own), for sending home one of his staff with the intelligence of a victory, when another had distinguished himself more in the battle. It was in vain the General condescended to point out, that, in order to avoid invidious distinction, a rule had been adopted to send home officers in their turn. He served out the campaign, and at the end of it quitted the army, with some addition to his reputation on the score of gallantry, and not a little on the score of discontent. Thus situated, his mind soured, his hopes crossed, his youth wasted, and his fortune spent, an employment of some consequence was offered him about the court: but as it was also a political employment, which required its possessor to support the minister, and as the politics of his family had ever led them to opposition, he unhesitatingly declined it; assigning the true reason. This gave him considerable éclat ; particularly as he was known to be poor: and it was under these circumstances, that, by the death of an uncle and cousin nearly at the same time, he suddenly found himself master of an immense estate. Tremaine was now not far from thirty, and his heart beat high at the prospects before him. He resolved to be happy; and if the indulgence of a disposition boundless in generosity, and naturally kind, could confer happiness, he ought to have found it; for it were endless to recount the instances of his active bounty to all who stood in need of it. But with all this, he was more spoilt than ever. Though no longer in the heyday of youth, he might yet be called young; and all things seemed to court him. Yet his temper grew more and more delicate; and as to his natural fastidiousness, never having discovered that, he of course took no pains to correct it. At the same time, he had formed to himself strange notions (not, indeed, arising from personal vanity, but from feelings less likely to make him happy) of the power of his situation, combined with his acquirements, always to make his mind suffice to itself, without the least dependence upon the world. CHAP. III. THE AMOURETTES OF A MAN OF REFINEMENT. "Full many a lady "I have eyed with best regards, and many a time 66 Brought my too diligent ear: For several virtues "With so full a soul, but some defect in her, SHAKSPEARE. WERE the fair, then, neglected by Mr. Tremaine, all this time? or did they neglect him?—Not so on either side. The sort of reputation he had made, even before his accession to fortune; his manners, figure, and features,-in all which there was a certain loftiness; his very finery itself (to use the term often applied to it in the world of fashion) had made him a person of no small consideration among the ladies. What must he be now, that he was one of the best matches in England? The daughters had courted him before; the mothers courted him |