AUTHOR OF 66 BY THE RICHELIEU," "PHILIP AUGUSTUS," &c. George P. R. Jam Nay, droop not: being is not breath AND SOLD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES. MDCCCXXXII. (5) HENRY MASTERTON. CHAPTER I. I OPENED my eyes to the light of day on the shores of that part of the British Channel where the narrow seas which interpose between France and England first show an inclination to spread out into the Atlantic Ocean. My father's house-Oh, what a multitude of thrilling memories, of early years, and happy dreams, and gall-less pleasures, rise up at the very name, mingling with the forms of the loved and the dead, and the tones of sweet voices that are heard no more-My father's house was raised upon the summit of one of those high cliffs which guard the coast of Devonshire; and, sweeping round within view of the windows, was a small beautiful bay, not a league and a half in diameter, within which the blue waters of the sea collected deep and still, as if for the purpose of repose. Bold high rocks, of a similar character to that on which our dwelling was perched, flanked the bay to the east; and on the west a long range of sandy shores extended towards the Atlantic, sloping gradually up into green fertile hills, whose high tops, covered with ricts woods of oak and beach, sheltered the calm expanse clow from the wild gales that race across the wide ocean beyond. In some places those woods would sweep down the sides of the hills till they almost dipped their branches in the sea; and, following the bend of the bay, at a greater or less distance from the shore, during more than one-half of its extent, they reached un broken to the eastern angle of Masterton House, as my parental mansion was called; and then, broken into scattered clumps of fine old trees, planted themselves in the valleys and the dells, and gave a character of antique grandeur to the scenery around. Through these trees and woods, down the sides of the cliffs, among the valleys inland, and the deep coves and inner bays by the seashore, was a perfect labyrinth of paths and walks, connected in the remembrance of my youth with a thousand childish adventures and exploits; and here, as we often proved in our boyish sports, a person well acquainted with the spot might baffle the pursuit even of others who possessed as intimate a knowledge of its intricacies as himself. The house itself presented nothing particularly worthy of description. It was one of those, many of which were destroyed in the civil wars, sufficiently defensible to bid defiance to a small force, but too weak to resist a regular siege for any length of time. The rooms, the chimneys, and the staircases were numerous; and though all of these, except the chimneys, were small, yet sufficient space had been thrown away to build forty of any such houses as have been constructed in the present day. Having given so far an account of our dwelling-place and the country round it, I have now to speak of those by whom it was inhabited; and I must begin somewhat prior to my own recollections, in order to render my after history clear and intelligible. Up to the time of my birth, my father, I have been told, held an office of high trust and honour at the court of King Charles I., and his character greatly assimilating with that of the monarch whom he served, a long prospect of advancement, power, and splendour was laid open before him. Naturally fond of the country, he would have spent his whole time in Devonshire, had not his official station required his presence almost continually in London. My mother, however, whose tastes were better suited to a court than those of my father, was obliged by his especial wish and command to remain far from the capital; and her husband-who was rather fond of martyrizing his feelings to his duty, sometimes even without much necessity-imagined that by abandoning a country life and domestic joys, he was making an inestimable sacrifice to his king. Thus feeling himself, in his commune with the monarch, less the person obliged than the person obliging, he assumed, it was reported, a certain degree of independence and authority to which no man was in general less inclined to submit than the king. The cause of his giving way to it so long in the case of my father was, probably, that his dignity was always secure in the rigid and somewhat formal respect with which my worthy parent did not fail to accompany his opposition of the royal will, or his obdurate assertion of his own opinion. He would not have deviated from that decorous reverence for the world; and while he was practically telling his majesty that his actions were madness or his words were folly, he was declaring in set terms his profound deference for the royal wisdom. There existed also, as I have said before, a great similarity of feeling in many respects between the monarch and his servant; the very rigid adherence to particular theories, however opposite those theories might be, was a part of the same character. The same imperturbable, almost melancholy calmness existed in both; the same fearlessness of consequences, but in my father's case without the same paroxysms of irresolution which at times unnerved the king; the same devoted desire of doing right, but also the same imperious manner of enforcing what they judged to be so, in opposition to the reasons, prejudices, or feelings of every one else. Such sources of sympathy did in all probability act in attaching the sovereign to my father; but upon what principle existed the great, undeviating, and devoted friendship which did exist between Lord Masterton and the Earl of Langleigh, I confess I am at a loss to know. From all I have ever heard, there never yet |