"Not such as prate of war, but skulk in peace."


Delme strolled out half an hour before his brother's dinner hour, with
the intention of paying a visit of ceremony to the Colonel of George's
regiment. His house was not far distant. It had been the palazzo of one
of the redoubted Knights of St. John; and the massive gate at which Sir
Henry knocked for admittance, seemed an earnest, that the family, who
had owned the mansion, had been a powerful and important one. The door
was opened, and the servant informed Delme, that Colonel Vavasour was on
the terrace.

The court yard through which they passed was extensive; and a spring

"Of living water from its centre rose,
Whose bubbling did a genial softness fling."

Ascending a lofty marble staircase, along which were placed a few
bronzed urns, Delme crossed a suite of apartments--thrown open in the
Italian mode--and passing through a glass door, found himself on a wide
stone terrace, edged by pillars.

Immediately beneath this, was an orange grove, whose odours perfumed the
air. Colonel Vavasour was employed in reading a German treatise on light
infantry tactics. He received Sir Henry with great cordiality, and
proposed adjourning to the library. Delme was pleased to observe, for it
corresponded with what he had heard of the man; that, with the exception
of the chef d'oeuvres of the English and German poets, the Colonel's
library, which was an extensive one, almost wholly consisted of such