made up the highest
aspirations of genius,--the most graceful fascinations of beauty.

Having denounced, by this recorded protest, the practice, and
disclaiming, as we must do, all desire to benefit by its enjoyment, we
desire our reader, particularly if he be of the less worthy gender, to
feel a due sense of the obligation he owes us, if we claim his company
for half an hour on such a voyage of discovery. Step softly, there is no
excuse for noise, as the stair-carpet is thick, and not a sound need be
heard. Gently, as you pass that green door,--that is the bedroom of Mr.
and Mrs. Kennyfeck. We will not linger there, nor invade the sanctity of
those precincts, within which the monotonous tones of Mrs. K. are heard,
revelling in that species of domestic eloquence which, like the liberty
of the press, is oftener pleasant to those who employ, than to those
who receive its judgments. Here for a few minutes let us stay. This is
Roland Cashel's apartment; and, strange enough, instead of sleeping, he
is up at his table, writing, too,--he, of all men the least epistolary.
There may be no great indication of character in mere handwriting, but
the manner, the gesture, the degree of rapidity of the writer, as seen
at the moment, are all full of individuality. Mark, then, with what
speed his pen moves; not the daisy-cutting sling of the accomplished
rider, but the slashing gallop of the heavy charger. Many a blot, never
an erasure,--so, there it goes,--"Yours ever, Roland Cashel." And now,
he begins another.

Come, these are no times for squeamishness. Let us anticipate "Sir
James," and read before he seals it.

Dublin. My dear Comrade,--We are neither of us very gifted
letter-writers, but events are always enough to tell, even
when style be wanting; and here am I, so overwhelmed by the
rush of new sensations that I know not where to begin, or
how to tell what has really happened since we parted, nor
distinguish actual stubborn facts from my own fancies. My
brief note from Porto Giacomo told you that I had succeeded
to something like fifteen thousand pounds a year. I believe
it is rather more, with a good round sum, I don't know how
much, in bank; and now, here I am,' just arrived, but
marvellously at home, in the house of the worthy fellow that
has established my claim.

If I only knew so much of my good luck, I 'd say it was no
bad thing to be pleasantly d