had the vantage-ground,
but it was an artificial eminence, and my level state, though it
appeared less tempting, was more secure. I had just been disgraced by
a misguided and ungrateful prince. I had already gone into a retirement
where my only honours were proportioned to my fortitude in bearing
condemnation, and my only flatterer was the hope of finding a companion
and a Mentor in myself. You, my friend, parted with life before you; and
you only relinquished the pursuit of Fortune at one court, to meet her
advances at another. Nearly ten years have flown since that time: my
situation is but little changed; I am returned, it is true, to my native
soil, but not to a soil more indulgent to ambition and exertion than the
scene of my exile. My sphere of action is still shut from me: _my mind
is still banished_.* You return young in years, but full of successes.
Have they brought you happiness, Devereux? or have you yet a temper to
envy my content?"

* I need scarcely remind the reader that Lord Bolingbroke, though he had
received a full pardon, was forbidden to resume his seat in the House of
Lords.--ED.

"Alas!" said I, "who can bear too close a search beneath the mask and
robe? Talk not of me now. It is ungracious for the fortunate to
repine; and I reserve whatever may disquiet me within for your future
consolation and advice. At present speak to me of yourself: you are
happy, then?"

"I am!" said Bolingbroke, emphatically. "Life seems to me to possess two
treasures: one glittering and precarious; the other of less rich a show,
but of a more solid value. The one is Power, the other Virtue; and there
is this main difference between the two,--Power is intrusted to us as a
loan ever required again, and with a terrible arrear of interest; Virtue
obtained by us as a _boon_ which we can only lose through our own folly,
when once it is acquired. In my youth I was caught by the former; hence
my errors and my misfortunes! In my declining years I have sought the
latter; hence my palliatives and my consolation. But you have not seen
my home, and _all_ its attractions," added Bolingbroke, with a smile
which reminded me of his former self. "I will show them to you." And we
turned our steps to the house.

As we walked thither I wondered to find how little melancholy was the
change Bolingbroke had undergone. Ten years, which bring man from his
prime to his decay, had indeed left their trace upon his stately form,
and the stil