s we are not exactly appreciated here,' said Lord Eskdale.

Leander bowed again, and still sighed.

'Prevost does not understand the affair,' continued Lord Eskdale. 'Why
I wished you to come down here, Leander, was not to receive the applause
of my cousin and his guests, but to form their taste.'

Here was a great idea; exciting and ennobling. It threw quite a new
light upon the position of Leander. He started; his brow seemed to
clear. Leander, then, like other eminent men, had duties to perform as
well as rights to enjoy; he had a right to fame, but it was also his
duty to form and direct public taste. That then was the reason he
was brought down to Bellamont Castle; because some of the greatest
personages in England, who never had eaten a proper dinner in their
lives, would have an opportunity, for the first time, of witnessing art.
What could the praise of the Duke of Clanronald, or Lord Hampshire,
or Lord Hull, signify to one who had shared the confidence of a Lord
Monmouth, and whom Sir Alexander Grant, the first judge in Europe,
had declared the only man of genius of the age? Leander erred too
in supposing that his achievements had been lost upon the guests at
Bellamont. Insensibly his feats had set them a-thinking. They had been
like Cossacks in a picture-gallery; but the Clanronalds, the Hampshires,
the Hulls, would return to their homes impressed with a great truth,
that there is a difference between eating and dining. Was this nothing
for Leander to have effected? Was it nothing, by this development of
taste, to assist in supporting that aristocratic influence which he
wished to cherish, and which can alone encourage art? If anything can
save the aristocracy in this levelling age, it is an appreciation of men
of genius. Certainly it would have been very gratifying to Leander
if his Grace had only sent him a message, or if Lord Montacute had
expressed a wish to see him. He had been long musing over some dish
_a la Montacute_ for this very day. The young lord was reputed to have
talent; this dish might touch his fancy; the homage of a great artist
flatters youth; this offering of genius might colour his destiny. But
what, after all, did this signify? Leander had a mission to perform.

'If I were you, I would exert myself, Leander,' said Lord Eskdale.

'Ah! my lord, if all men were like you! If artists were only sure of
being appreciated; if we were but understood, a dinner would become a
sacrifice to the g