CHAPTER II. "All the world's a stage, "And all the men and women merely players Shakspeare. In the education of his children, Mr. Trelawney had adopted a somewhat singular plan, from the toc general system of the present day; and that was to keep them in profound ignorance as to what might be expected, from their worldly prospects, or pecuniary hopes and wishes in all that respected mundane affairs; determined that neither of these children could possess a single shilling of his property, however splendid or wealthy were his known possessions, provided that they did not prove themselves sufficiently worthy of the gifts of fortune, or that they discovered in early life traits of a mercenary or sordid disposition. We do not mean to infer that it was Mr. Trelawney's intention to leave his children beggars, or that his large possession were to devolve to strangers; no, but he certainly meant to proportion them according to their merits, and would that every wise father could pursue so laudable and praise-worthy a resolution. The elder branches of a family, if unamiably disposed, would not so frequently have it in their power to vaunt over the more humble expectations of the younger ones; they would not boast of advantages gained only in consequence of their birth right, which had supe. rior qualifications and superior virtues been consulted, would never perhaps have fallen to their share; nor would an elder brother, or an elder sister, become exclusively the object of attention, merely be cause they were to be considered the most wealthy branches of the family. "I will not educate my children with any pretensions;" uttered Mr. Trelawney to his beloved Rosa, one day when they had been visiting the apartments appropriated for their respective studies, "they shall learn to have no pretensions but what they derive from their own merits, talents and industry; and I would rather see them vain of these than of the proudest gifts of fortune." "Certainly, my love, it is all very true, but," Mrs. Trelawney paused; and Trelawney exclaimed,— "But what, my Rosa?" And she instantly replied, "But will the world appreciate these qualities quite so justly?what is merit, talent, industry,-nay, what is virtue, when put into the scale with the acquisition of fortune? Alas, my love, you well know that the one would not weigh a feather in comparison with the other; to which all hearts bow in homage, all eyes gaze with admiration, all tongues whisper praise. Is not wealth a shrine which even kings worship, and nations still adore?" "Then to that shrine they shall not bend in the Descendants of Trelawney," uttered he; "my children shall not be regarded,—they shall not be flattered,—for the sake of their inheritance; and they can never utterly be despised only because that they are considered poor." "I admit that riches are not virtues," cried Mrs. Trelawney "but virtues may improve them; they may be rendered great, they may be rendered glorious by the manner in which we appoint them to our use." To which Trelawney replied,— -but "It is true that they sometimes debase and sometimes exalt their possessors, my love; and there is also an intermediate space by which they do neither; and this is precisely what I do not wish my children to adopt. He that does no good when he has the power, though he does no evil, does not perfectly answer the end of his creation; and, therefore is he censurable in the eyes of his Maker! we will talk of this, my love, at some future opportunity, our children are yet tender in blossom, but remember, Rosa, 'tis we who are to preserve the fruit, or they will perish, my love, 'tis we who are to bend the twig while they are yet young, or they will disappoint our fondest our warmest hopes and expectations of their maturity. You are a mother so tender of your offspring, that I own I have some apprehension that your excessive indulgence may spoil the management of them." Now there was a chord in Mrs. Trelawney's heart that could neNo. 1. 2 ver bear to be touched, though ever so lightly, and it was her fondness for her children, and with rather more color than usual it now mounted to her glowing cheek while she warmly replied,— "Dear Trelawney, look at our children,-look on William,—look on Alexina,—and look at the younger ones,-my Ellen, my Tanjore, and my little cherub, Mary, then ask a mother if it is then possible not to love them." Rosa was still beautiful, she had passed the spring, but she was yet in the summer of her charms, and at this moment she looked in the eyes of her husband handsomer than he had ever seen her before, and all his reply was to kiss off a tear, which was falling like the dew only, which the zephyr shakes from roses; it was no rude tempest which had brought it there; it was no jarring discord that had occasioned its intrusion, but it was a drop which holy nature sometimes mixes with her purest sweets, it looked bright as the starry firmament in a soft celestial sky, when the moon gently steals behind a cloud, and makes fairer their pellucid light; and, "Go, my angel, do what you please with your children, but do not spoil them," was uttered by Trelawney, in a moment of the most transporting fondness, nor was this conversation afterwards resumed till the Descendants of Trelawney were found, by their fond parents to be rapidly advancing towards maturity. The boys under the tuition of a gentleman who had been very early selected by their father to superintend the management of their edu cation. The applicants, which had been ambitious of obtaining this eligible and distinguished situation, had indeed been exceedingly numerous; but Mr. Trelawney made choice of Mr. Fothersgill, before he had converse with him precisely half an hour, not because he had been eager to display any great or shining abilities that he was known to have possessed, because he had the modesty of concealing them. "Fothersgill is a man of few words," uttered Mr. Trelawney, " and therefore I will certainly have him. Tanjore is already too talkative, a prating tutor would make much worse, and Fothersgill must quiet him. I could never endure to see boys too forward in conversation; it produces a flippancy of speech which it is exceedingly dimcult for them to get the better of at a more ripened season." It is true that the tutor of the young Trelawneys was not only a man of few words, but his person was also as quaint and as singular as his manners, with which the formality of his dress always corresqonded; he wore his own hair, which being lank and thin, and of a coal black, and combed straightly over his forehead, gave him much the appearance of a quaker; yet his integrity, his principles were indisputable, and this was considered by Mr. Trelawney to precede all other earthly recommendations, and had long established Mr. Fothersgill on a good footing in his family; he was aware that his boys could not do wrong provided Fothersgill had the direction of their studies; and the choice of their pursuits; and on the other hand, Fothersgill was fully sensible of what were the attentions of Mr. Trelawney respecting the education of his sons. The elder of whom, William Henry, he had indeed but little trouble with, as he was by nature, as it were, moulded to his hand; he had all the sweetness of his mothers disposition, without the impetnosity of his father, of whom in person he was the exact counterpart, he was tall, graceful, and elegantly proportioned, and the turn of his expressive features were, like Trelawney's rather grave, except when any favorite subject lighted him suddenly into enthusiasm, then the sunbeam which shone so brightly in the countenance of his father, would burst forth like the refulgent rays, warming but never scorching the objects which turned to him for protection --but when not called into energy, the manners and habits of William Henry Trelawney were of a quiet and even gentle temperature. Not so the lively, animated and vivacious Tanjore, who was two years the Junior of his brother, and whose statue, though considerably smaller, might in its admirable proportions of exact symetry, have been a model for the Apollo of Belvidere; nor were his features less perfect than his form, bearing so strong a resemblance to his beauteous mother, that the face of Rosa was stamped almost on every lineament; he had the rosy freshness of her complexion, her dark bright beaming eye, and the smile of a laughing cherub, which in the period of his infant days so often charmed and transported his idolizing father, who certainly, owing to his strong resemblance of Mrs. Trelawney, had insensibly grown fonder of little Tanjore than he was of the rest of his children. We say insensibly, because Mr. Trelawney was not himself aware of the predilection till occasions called it forth; for of all Trelawney's children, Tanjore was the most faulty, and was, therefore, the more frequently punished, and it was the pain which the infliction of h fhis punishments excited in the heart of his father, which had first whispered the important secret, that Tanjore was dearer than all the rest of his children; and in consequence of this important secret Mr. Trelawney pursued a method quite contrary to his inclinations,—that of imposing on himself the hardest restrictions, by using more severity with Tanjore, in order to check this growing and, as he thought, this most improper propensity; but the misfortune was that the little urchin had taught every body else to love him, in spite of themselves; his mother loved him, and his sisters loved him, beyond the powers of concealment; and even Fothersgill, the rigid tutor, could not help laughing sometimes at the wily tricks of his incorrigible little pupil, his lectures to him on all occasions being always expressed precisely in the following words, "I stand amazed, Mr. Tanjore, at your temerity." But at these words the lecture generally ended, and his pupil again transgressed, and again was reprimanded in the same manner, so that at last, "I stand amazed at your temerity," had become a proverbial sentence with Mr. Fothersgill, and for some time the tricks of little scapegrace received no greater punishment. On one occasion, however, his pupil had gone beyond all bounds, in having taught a favorite little pointer the act of stealing from the larder, and it being reported by the cook, that a brace of fine ducks had been torn to picces by Master Tanjore's pointer, and carried into the school-room, the indignation of the tutor was roused to a pitch of fury and he insisted that the dog should be well beaten. On which Tanjore exclaimed, "Let any one touch him at his peril!" doubling his little fists at the same instant in the most menacing attitude. On which Fothersgill, highly provoked, retorted, "Mr. Tanjore Trelawney, I not only stand amazed at your te merity, but I shall certainly make you repent of it, suppose now I were to take down that cane which is suspended over your head, and exercise it over your shoulders." On which Tanjore spiritedly replied, |