The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-03-01

menagerie of lions. If he was seldom mel
with in the character of guest, he was a
host OF the first water; and at least hall
the good grain that redeems the ordinary
chat, Of London conversation was to be
found at his table.
lie had but one child, son, whose edu-
cation and training had been something
like that of prince royal. He had not
been sent to any public school, but had
been surrounded from his cradle with
tutors of the highest class that money
could procure. Instead of going to uni
versity he had been sent to travel all over
Europe and beyond it; and everything had
been done for him that could be considered
to qualify him for a station of life even
above that to which he had been called,
Fortunately-for such elaborate processes
OF education are dangerous-the DISPOSE
ton of the sole heir to so much wealth was
good by nature-and still more fortunately
for training is even more important than
nature-the atmosphere in which he had
been brought up was such as of necessity
to give him an interest in the greater and
higher movements of men. But the very
men with whom he was brought most in
contact-the authors, the artists, the phil
anthropists, the enthusiasts of the day
were not such as were, under the circum-
stances, most fitted by the influence of
their society to render him model son.
1t was not that he ever gave his father the
least uneasiness on the score of his morals;
but he readily imbibed tendency, only
too easy of indulgence, to take every oppor-
tunity of flying in the face of the world and
Of doing outre things simply because they
were outre. He soon began to be a great
deal talked about and very little under
stood. His instincts were generous and
true in the main, and it was simply out of
the question that he should ever swell the
ranks of the jeunesse orageuse-a body that
would have even voted him milksop if it
had not redeemed him by calling him
mailman. But he wanted to live life of
his own and to carry out his own ideas:
and his own life was so large and his own
ideas so many, that it was very hard for
him to turn his energies into any special
direction.
He shared in every passing mania of the !
day, so long as it was unpopular and what
he considered anti-Philistine. At one
time he was on the point of turning Catho-
lie, and Of joining either the Society of
Loyola or the Brotherhood of La Trappe
he had not quite made up his mind to
which he should present his golden apple |
so nearly that had not 50 many CONVEX |
sions taken place about the same time as |
to such step seem popular and Philis-
tine, he would inevitably have done so. So,
instead of that, he affiliated himself to some |
foreign secret society, for the political and |
social regeneration Of the universe, and, |
for some time, played at conspiracy
Then, finding that this, too, was vanity, he
turned solitary, and spent the whole of a
summer and autumn in an out of the-way
corner in the country, in the study of magic
and in the search for the Alcahest. In
short, there were few sublime absurdities |
Of which he had not been guilty--always
the follies and absardities of the
every day werld. lie was very promis-
nc Don Quixote indeed. But, at last-it
was at the period at which he was engaged
in inventins bran-new religion, with an
esoteric and exoteric form, built upon the /
basis of Moo Platonism and the Positive
Philosophy-he suddenly came to stand
still, which puzzled hisacquaintances more
than ever. His new caprice seemed to con-
sist n being without a caprice at ALL
There was nothing now in which he could
be got to show an active and lively inter-
est; and yet, at the same time, he showed !
no signs of becoming bored or blase> And ,
he became graver also, and more reserved;
for hitherto he had always thrown himself
into his ideas acmhatively. 1t was either
that he was OH the eve of developing into
real man, who makes up his mind to see
things as they are, and not as he would |
have them be, or else it was that that had |
happened to him which sooner or later, at |
first or at last, comes to all and interferes |
terribly with the pursuit of philosophy.
This latses thought troubled his father
terribly, who had set his heart by continu.
ing the great house by means of magnid- !
cent alliance; and he knew it to be only too
probable that his son would-just because
it would be citre and n-Philistine-play
the part of King Cophetua, on principle.
So he watched him as closely as he could;
but it was without success. He could only |
discover that his son was in the habit Of |
taking walk at a certain hour nearly
every day, and that bis walk was generally |
a long one, reckoning by time. He would
have q given great many thousands Of
pounds THAT his son might turn out to be |
even wild and extravagant, so that he
might be a little more like other young
men.