r quarters,
that I may give all possible perspicuity to the series of events. To
avoid confusion in my narrative, I shall drop the person of Collins, and
assume to be myself the historian of our patron. To the reader it may
appear at first sight as if this detail of the preceding life of Mr.
Falkland were foreign to my history. Alas! I know from bitter experience
that it is otherwise. My heart bleeds at the recollection of his
misfortunes, as if they were my own. How can it fail to do so? To his
story the whole fortune of my life was linked: because he was miserable,
my happiness, my name, and my existence have been irretrievably blasted.

CHAPTER II.

Among the favourite authors of his early years were the heroic poets of
Italy. From them he imbibed the love of chivalry and romance. He had too
much good sense to regret the times of Charlemagne and Arthur. But,
while his imagination was purged by a certain infusion of philosophy, he
conceived that there was in the manners depicted by these celebrated
poets something to imitate, as well as something to avoid. He believed
that nothing was so well calculated to make men delicate, gallant, and
humane, as a temper perpetually alive to the sentiments of birth and
honour. The opinions he entertained upon these topics were illustrated
in his conduct, which was assiduously conformed to the model of heroism
that his fancy suggested.

With these sentiments he set out upon his travels, at the age at which
the grand tour is usually made; and they were rather confirmed than
shaken by the adventures that befel him. By inclination he was led to
make his longest stay in Italy; and here he fell into company with
several young noblemen whose studies and principles were congenial to
his own. By them he was assiduously courted, and treated with the most
distinguished applause. They were delighted to meet with a foreigner,
who had imbibed all the peculiarities of the most liberal and honourable
among themselves. Nor was he less favoured and admired by the softer
sex. Though his stature was small, his person had an air of uncommon
dignity. His dignity was then heightened by certain additions which were
afterwards obliterated,--an expression of frankness, ingenuity, and
unreserve, and a spirit of the most ardent enthusiasm. Perhaps no
Englishman was ever in an equal degree idolised by the inhabitants of
Italy.

It was not possible for him to have drunk so deeply of the fountain of