CHAPTER XXXIV.

An old worshipful gentleman, that had a great estate,
And kept a brave old house at a hospitable rate.
--Old Song.

I think I may, without much loss to the reader, pass in silence over my
voyage, the next day, to Dover. (Horrible reminiscence!) I may also spare
him an exact detail of all the inns and impositions between that sea-port
and London; nor will it be absolutely necessary to the plot of this
history, to linger over every mile-stone between the metropolis and
Glenmorris Castle, where my uncle and my mother were impatiently awaiting
the arrival of the candidate to be.

It was a fine bright evening when my carriage entered the park. I had not
seen the place for years; and I felt my heart swell with something like
family pride, as I gazed on the magnificent extent of hill and plain that
opened upon me, as I passed the ancient and ivy-covered lodge. Large
groups of trees, scattered on either side, seemed, in their own
antiquity, the witness of that of the family which had given them
existence. The sun set on the waters which lay gathered in a lake at the
foot of the hill, breaking the waves into unnumbered sapphires, and
tinging the dark firs that overspread the margin, with a rich and golden
light, that put me excessively in mind of the Duke of--'s livery.

When I descended at the gate, the servants, who stood arranged in an
order so long that it almost startled me, received me with a visible
gladness and animation, which shewed me, at one glance, the old fashioned
tastes of their master. Who, in these days, ever inspires his servants