MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.

PART II.

"Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,
Rage like all angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in the pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?"

SHAKSPEARE.


My entertainer received me with more civility than I had expected. He
was almost fashionably dressed; his grim features were smoothed into an
elaborate smile; and he repeated his gratification at seeing me, in such
variety of tones that I began to doubt the cordiality of my reception.
But I could have no doubt of the elegance of the apartment into which I
was shown. All was foreign, even to the flowers in the vases that filled
the windows. A few bas-reliefs in the most finished style; a few
alabasters as bright as if they had been brought at the moment from
Carrara; a few paintings of the Italian masters, if not original and of
the highest value, at least first-rate copies--caught the eye at once:
the not _too_ much, the not _too_ little, that exact point which it
requires so much skill to touch, showed that the eye of taste had been
every where; and I again thought of the dungeon in the city, and asked
myself whether it was possible that Mordecai could be the worker of the
miracle.