Heaven forbid, cries Cecilia, that I should ever fail to reverence that wisdom, which I am of an age to comprehend, but which a youth like my nephew may misconceive and construe not according to reason and its true sense, but according to the bent and impulse of his own passions.
You are right, said De Lancaster, recovering his complacency, you are right, my dear child, and I am sorry that I alluded to the example of young Hannibal, as I have ever disapproved of Hanno for bringing him at so early an age to the altar, and implanting hatred and revenge in his heart by a solemn oath for ever. All this while take notice, I am an enemy to blows; I never struck your brother Philip in my life, nor should allow of his striking my grandson John; at the same time there are blows, that inflict no disgrace; the blows for instance, that are received in battle, when combating the enemies of our country, where the hero, although bleeding with his wounds, spares the life of the opponent, who asks it of him and submits himself to his mercy. I shall speak upon this more at large to my grandson, and define to him the several characters and descriptions of blows in such a manner, as may enable him to distinguish which may be passed over, and which may not; copying the example of the Sage Chiron the Centaur, who, when tutoring his pupil young Achilles upon the nature of blows, put a whip into his hand, and set him astride on his own back, threatening at the same time to kick him off without mercy, if he ventured to make use of it.
With submission to your better judgment, said Cecilia, smiling at the ridiculousness of the allusion, I should conceive it may be well to postpone this lecture till our young Achilles is more able to understand it, and in the meantime, till this matter of the ham-strung horse is cleared up, to send him out of harm’s way with his tutor Mr. Wilson, who meditates to pay a visit to his parish, and has, as you well know, repairs and improvements to superintend at his parsonage house, where your people are at work for his accommodation.
Your advice is excellent, my dear Cecilia, cried De Lancaster, rising from his seat, and shall be strictly followed: Let John be off with the lark to-morrow morning, and no fear but, in the peaceful mansion of the christian teacher of forgiveness, he will recover his tranquillity, and consign all injuries to oblivion.
It was not many minutes after this conversation had passed, when Mr. De Lancaster, addressing himself to his friend Wilson, said—I perceive, my good colonel, that the knowledge, which a man gets in his library is of very little use to himself or others in the world at large: I suspect that I have been reading every thing to no purpose, whilst Cecilia, who has read scarce any thing, is wiser than I am.
Aye my good sir, replied Wilson, ’tis even so: we must carry our grey hairs to school, and learn wisdom of our children. If we would wish to know what the world is about, we must not enquire of those, who are out of it, but of those, who are in it.
CHAPTER III.
Our Hero sets out upon a Visit to his Tutor at his Parsonage House. Occurrences by the Way.
In a fine autumnal morning, whilst the sun was mounting in the clear horizon, the Reverend Mr. Wilson and his pupil took their departure from the castle. They had not less than twenty Welch computed miles to traverse over a romantic country before they reached the parsonage house at Shells, now prepared for their reception. What were the prospects, that opened upon them by the way, how wild, how various, how sublime, we shall not study to describe, though all the requisites of mountain, wood and water are at our command, and court us to employ them. If these beautiful objects lost their effect upon our hero John, it was in great part owing to another beautiful object, not then present, which greatly occupied his thoughts, as the immediate scene of his meditation just then laid at Denbigh, where the young Amelia, unseen but not forgotten, still kept possession of his heart. The point, towards which he was shaping his course, would bring him nearer to Denbigh by more than half the distance between that place and Kray Castle, and though his mind was not perfectly at peace with respect to Mrs. Jennings, he felt every tender sentiment for her unoffending charge, and cherished a fond hope that some happy opportunity might occur to repay him for the disappointment he had met with and the long absence he had endured.
Whilst our young hero, wholly occupied in these meditations, was incautiously riding along a slippery path in his descent from the heights, his horse’s footing failed him and he fell upon his knees: being an active horseman he lost neither his seat nor his temper, but it brought other ideas to his recollection, and turning to his companion he calmly observed, that had his favourite Glendowr been under him, nothing of that sort could have happened—and what a treasure, added he, have I been defrauded of? what kind of heart must that man have who could turn a fine animal, that had been cloathed and pampered in the stable, naked on a barren heath, only because an uncle, who had left him every think else, had bequeathed this one token of his remembrance to me as his godson?
At this instant lawyer Davis rode up to them on a brisk gallop, and saluting them as he reined in his horse, cried out—Well met, gentlemen; I thought I kenn’d you as I crossed the hill, and hastened to give you the intelligence, that I am carrying to the castle, of my having got such information, as will secure ample damages for the loss of Sir Owen’s legacy of the horse, and expose to the world one of the basest and most rascally transactions, that was ever brought to light.