nd had a son at
Oxford, a wild, scapegrace youth, who had never been a joy to him, but a
trial and a sorrow even from his cradle. Such punishments there are
reserved for men--such visitations for the sins our fathers wrought, too
thoughtless of their progeny. How the old man envied the prosperous
bridegroom, and how vainly he wished that his boy might have done as
well; and how through his small grey eye, the labouring tear-drops
oozed, as he called fresh to mind again all that he had promised himself
at the birth of his unhappy prodigal! What would he not give to recover
and reform the wayward boy? The thought occurred to him, and he dallied
with it for his pleasure. "If I could but settle him with this young
Allcraft! Why should it not be done? I will give him all I have at once,
if necessary, and live in a garret, if it will save my poor Augustus. I
will speak to him on his return. What a companion and example for my
boy! Open and straightforward--steady as a rock--as rich as Croesus.
Most certainly I'll see him. I knew his father. I'll not grudge a few
thousands to establish him. Stick him to business, and he shall do yet."
The equipage rolled on as unconscious of the old man's dreams as were
its animated inmates; and in due time it passed a massive lodge, which
led through green and winding paths to the finest park and mansion in
the parish. Close to the lodge's porch there stood a tall and
gloomy-looking man, neatly dressed--alone. His arms were folded, and he
eyed the carriage thoughtfully and seriously, as though he had an
interest there, known to himself, and to no one else. He was a very
proud man that--the owner of this vast estate, master of unnumbered
acres, and feared rather than loved by the surrounding people. Wealth is
the most royal of despots--the autocrat of all the world. Men whose
sense of liberty forbids them to place their worst passions under wise
control, will crawl in fetters to lick the basest hand well smeared with
gold. There was not an individual who could say a good word for the
squire behind his back. You would hardly believe it, if you saw
individual and squire face to face. And there he stood, with as
ill-omened a visage as ever brought blight upon a party of pleasure. He
watched the panting horses out of sight--opened his gate, and walked the
other way. He, like the old man, had his plans, and an itching for a
share in Michael Allcraft's fortune. How he, so wealthy and respected,
could