crowd of friends. It reminded him, perhaps, of his own youth, when such
parties and companionships were familiar to him, though through them all
he had borne an ambitious, aspiring soul. "Le jeu vaut-il la chandelle?"
said he, shrugging his shoulders.

The coach rolled rapidly past Leonard, as he stood leaning against the
corner of the bridge, and the mire of the kennel splashed over him from
the hoofs of the fiery horses. The laughter smote on his ear more
discordantly than on the minister's, but it begot no envy.

"Life is a dark riddle," said he, smiting his breast.

And he walked slowly on, gained the recess where he had stood several
nights before with Helen, and, dizzy with want of food, and worn out for
want of sleep, he sank down into the dark corner; while the river that
rolled under the arch of stone muttered dirge-like in his ear,--as under
the social key-stone wails and rolls on forever the mystery of Human
Discontent. Take comfort, O Thinker by the stream! 'T is the river that
founded and gave pomp to the city; and, without the discontent, where
were progress, what were Man? Take comfort, O THINKER! wherever the
stream over which thou bendest, or beside which thou sinkest, weary and
desolate, frets the arch that supports thee, never dream that, by
destroying the bridge, thou canst silence the moan of the wave!




CHAPTER XVI.

Before a table, in the apartments appropriated to him in his father's