“My dear Jack, I only know a line here and there.”

“Out with them.  Put them all in a row, and never mind the meaning.”

Thus urged, I indited the following as a headpiece.]

“Deine de clange genet’ argurioio bioio,
Be d’akeion para thina poluphlosboio thalasses,
Thelo legein Atreidas, thelo de Cadmon adein,
Ton d’apomeibomenos prosephe podas-ocus Achilleus.” 

          
                                            HOMER, Iliad, 1.  I.

["Excellent! bravo!” said Jack; “they’ll see at once the author is a gentleman and a scholar; and now go on.”]

The crimson and gold drawing-room of Lorrington Caste was filled with company, the court-yard crowded with carriages, and the coachmen and footmen in gorgeous liveries, with a splendid white satin favour at the side of their hats.  The view from the window——­

["Stop,” said Jack Stuart, “here’s a better description.  I cut it out of the Times”——­]

     The view from the window involved a spacious assemblage of all
     the numerous beauties and illustrations that cast a magnificent
     air of grandeur over one of

     ENGLAND’S NOBLEST MANSIONS.

     The extensive shrubberies clothed the verdant meads, and threw
     a shade of deep green tints over an

     EXTENSIVE ARTIFICIAL LAKE,

     on which floated, like a nymph or naiad, a beautiful

     SAILING BOAT,

painted bright green, and fit for instant use.  Further off, in one of those indistinct distances immortalized by the pencil of Turner—­now softened into sober beauty by “the autumnal hue, the sear and yellow leaf,” as an immortal bard expresses it, in language which the present writer does not imitate, and could not, without great difficulty, excel, was an

     IMMENSE DAIRY FARM,

     fit for the accommodation of

     THIRTY MILK COWS,

     of a peculiar breed, highly approved of by the

     RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF SPENCER.

     In other portions of the landscape rose statues which might
     have raised the envy of

     PRAXITELES, THE GRECIAN SCULPTOR,

     or attracted the love of the beautiful “Maid of France,” who
     “sighed her soul away” in presence of

     THE APOLLO BELVIDERE,

     a figure, in the words of a living author,

    “Too fair to worship, too divine to love.”

     The drawing-room of the mansion was of the amplest size, and
     contained some of the finest specimens of the taste and
     workmanship of

     JACKSON AND GRAHAM,

     enumerating Or-molu tables—­escritoires—­rosewood chairs richly
     inlaid—­richly coloured

     AXMINSTER CARPET,

     and sofas covered with figured satin.