on of one who uses his classical weapons with a scholar's
dexterity, not a pedant's inaptitude: for such a one there is a sort of
agreeable confusion in their respect; they are inclined, unconsciously,
to believe that he must necessarily be a high gentleman--ay, and
something of a good fellow into the bargain.

It happened then that Aram could not have dwelt upon a theme more
likely to arrest the spontaneous interest of those with whom he now
conversed--men themselves of more cultivated minds than usual, and more
capable than most (from that acute perception of real talent, which is
produced by habitual political warfare,) of appreciating not only his
endowments, but his facility in applying them.

"You are right, my Lord," said Sir--, the whipper-in of the--party,
taking the Earl aside; "he would be an inestimable pamphleteer."

"Could you get him to write us a sketch of the state of parties;
luminous, eloquent?'" whispered a lord of the bed-chamber.

The Earl answered by a bon mot, and turned to a bust of Caracalla.

The hours at that time were (in the country at least) not late, and the
Earl was one of the first introducers of the polished fashion of France,
by which we testify a preference of the society of the women to that of
our own sex; so that, in leaving the dining-room, it was not so late
but that the greater part of the guests walked out upon the terrace, and
admired the expanse of country which it overlooked, and along which the
thin veil of the twilight began now to hover.

Having safely deposited his royal guest at a whist table, and thus left
himself a free agent, the Earl, inviting Aram to join him, sauntered
among the loiterers on the terrace for a few moments, and then descended
a broad flight of steps, which brought them into a more shaded and
retired walk; on either side of which rows of orange-trees gave forth
their fragrance, while, to the right, sudden and numerous vistas were
cut among the more irregular and dense foliage, affording glimpses--now
of some rustic statue--now of some lone temple--now of some quaint
fountain, on the play of whose waters the first stars had begun to
tremble.

It was one of those magnificent gardens, modelled from the stately
glories of Versailles, which it is now the mode to decry, but which
breathe so unequivocally of the Palace. I grant that they deck Nature
with somewhat too prolix a grace; but is beauty always best seen in
deshabille? And with what associa