Glories of Spain

rovence-Charmed days-Excursions-Isles of Greece-Ossa and Pelion-City of the violet crown-Spinning-jennies have something to answer for-Olympus-?gina-Groves of the Sacred Plain-Narrow escapes-Pleasures

ow-Passing away-Resolve to travel-"I can no

very expression; could flash with intellect, melt with fervent love or grow earnest with condemnation; sparkle wi

ame mystic sphere, or under the same conjunction of stars; and that for the third time in my life I discover one who is altogether sympathetic to me; to whom I feel I can speak as to my other self. Nor is it necessary that this feeling should be shared by you in an equal degree. Enough that you are not antagonistic; even approach

was powerful; distinguished by all the finest and noblest qualities vouchsafed to mankind. But we wished

lenished the cups, and we

I have brought you here simply for the pleasure of spending an evening with you. If I beguiled you at this late hour under any other impression I am guilty of false pretences. But late though it be it is still evening to me, to whom all hours are alike. For a whole week at a time I have slept an hour in the twenty-four in my arm-chair, and found this su

you a homily of which black coffee was the text and strong waters were the application. It was done partly from the impulsiveness of my nature which has carried me into a thousand-and-one unpremeditated scenes and circumstances; partly that my heart warmed towards you and I thought it a surer introduction to a better acquai

gh six decades had rolled over his head, he

was nothing harsh or loud in its tones. Delormais was too well-bred, too much a man of the wor

listener: Saul sitting at the

been singular and eventful. I will rapidly sketch some of its passages: a mere outline. To go through it circumstantially, in detail

remembrances. Orange-groves and lemon-groves, olive-yards and vineyards, orchards where grew all the luscious fruits of

an order. Most lovable of husbands and most indulgent of fathers, we, who were to him as the breath of his nostrils, worshipped him. I was his constant companion. Day after day, when just old enough to run by his side, he would sail about with me in his white-winged bo

not with us these absences were rare, three days their limit. I was the i

d boy. I was an only surviving child, and for that reason doubly precious to my parents. A little daughter had first been born to them; a child, I have heard, the very counterpart of her

y care was to check my high and venturesome spirit, which now would cause me to be fished up from the bottom of shallow waters; and now would bring me down to earth with a broken olive-

France, not Spain. We lived in one of the loveliest spots of fair Provence,

of G., an empty-headed bon vivant, with nothing but his title and wealth to recommend him. For fifteen years my mother's life was happy as life on earth can be. The day came when her people acknowledged the wisdom of her choice, the hollowness of theirs. But one circumstance in her father I have always thought condoned all his obstinacy. He finally yielded to her wishes. Without this the marriage would have been impossible. When he saw that her very exist

arly years are specially happy, the after-life is the opposite. I cannot say that this has bee

By stretching forth his hand he could occasionally clasp hers, as though to assure her that his heart still beat for her alon

cursions would be lengthened. We explored the islands of the Mediterranean, visited friends in some of the more distant towns on the seaboard. How well I remember a longer absence than usual, when we made acquaintance with all the Greek isles, and explored the fair city of the violet crown. Who that has approached those classic shores can forget the first sight of Ossa and Pelion-scene of the ba

m the frontier to the Pir?us; visited the islands of the Peloponnesus, with all their ancient and romantic interest; rested ourselves at the Monastery of Daphne, and from the summit of the pass gazed upon that wonderful view of Athens. Together we ascended Mount Olympus and pictured ou

reet too warmly or fête too highly my mother's beaut

monument? I remember as though it were yesterday my first glimpse of Helicon and Parnassus, as we sailed through the Gulf of Corinth; the walk through the olive-groves of the Sacred Plain, where, turn which way you will, the eye rests on historic ground. In the fair city we thought of Paul as he preached to the Athenians under the shadow of the Parthenon. We haunted the Acropolis with its barren rocks and fragments of past glories. From the charmed height

nd our delight. There we were truly happy. Looking back, I see that it was an ideal existence: a conditio

on the Riviera. We have since approached some degrees nearer to the North Pole. Little need for others to go off in search of it and bring it to us. At that time we lived in perpetual summer. The sapphire waters of the Mediterranean for ever flashed and flowed upon the white sands of the shores that belonged to us. It seems to me now that the skies were always blue and the sun ever

se early days has never faded, but has been the background and colouring of all my after life. Even now in thought I often go back to them. There are times when I am a

plans were formed. A precocious child, it was felt that I ought

rt's desire. He had no parish or people to look after. With less singleness of purpose and more worldliness, he might have risen to any position in the church. No better companion for a boy could have been found, and he possessed the rare faculty of imparting knowledge. His mind could unbend, and he adapted his conversation to his hearers. No mere bookworm was h

l of thoughtful consideration for all in any way dependent upon him. From the highest to the lowest, none were passed over. He soon discovered the Abbé's true character; the high purpose that actuated his life; and became devoted to him. My father's mind was quite

ys an acquisition. A man of deep and varied thought, possessing the gift, not always given to great men, of putting his thoughts into words. An earnest, fluent talker, who could unstring his bow and throw a charm even over ordinary topics. This was far more apparent, far more ex

is pupil in all those important years when the seeds are being sown to bear fruit in the after life. From the age of seven to nineteen, I was seldom absent from him. Occasionally he would join in our yachting excursions. Then, unbending, th

of. And why not? My future was assured. I should be wealthy. It was not necessary to go out into the world to learn to fig

ot change one single circumstance of those early days. They are

ch other. It was a paradise of four people; for the Abbé in time became as one of ourselves. If good influence were wanted, he gave it. He was a deeply religious man in the wide acceptance of the term; not thinking of saints and fasts and penances, but of the higher life which looks Above for strength and consolatio

nful crisis in his life. A deep sigh escaped him which seemed weighted with the burden of years. The

orrow of my life. I could not have conceived that our cloudless

r much he loved her, he may get him another. But

erself was conscious of it. There were times-how well I remembered it afterwards-when I would find her eyes fixed upon me with a yearning ineffable sadness. Her whole soul and spirit seemed to be speaki

m. He was never the same again. I never again heard him laugh, scarcely saw him smile. His body was still on earth, thought and spirit seemed to have followed his wife into the unseen world. His affection for me, the kindl

ithout interruption. Fifteen years of perfect companionship ha

e perfect happiness made that remembrance for the moment intolerable. I had passionately, tenderly loved both father and mother. If I went into the groves, her face seemed ever gazing

rly forced. My life grew impossible. I felt that I must change the scene if I would recover mental tone and vigour. For a time I must travel; see the world; wa

s, a domestic chargé-d'affaires, who had for years filled the position under my father, remained at the head of all things. The only change in his routine was that once a week he should have a morning with the Abbé. All matters were to pass under the scrutiny of that wise judgment. If any difficulty arose he was to be appealed to. It was the only service I asked at the hand

uperior. Mathematics and classics, the sciences, these by his rare skill he had made my amusement. But my impulsive nature, quick sometimes to rashness, had not been conquered. He had only given me a certain amount of judgment and common-sense which must stand by me in moments of difficulty or danger. Alto

e other than to see the world. To which point

is white, well-shaped hand shielded his eyes. Then returning to his former atti