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Melville," said he, “we are now out of England, and I wish you to understand the principle on which we travel together. To a young man like you, who are not only at an age to guide yourself, but have been accustomed to do so all your life, as I easily saw when residing with you, the idea of controlling your inclinations is out of the question; neither do I go with you as a spy upon your actions. Look upon me as an elder brother-one who, though not more than six or seven years older than yourself, has seen far more of the world than you have, and who is ready to turn the experience he has gained at his own cost to your advantage. If I see any thing that requires my advice, you shall have it: if you ask it, it is always at your command; but, remember, I never inquire. I offer to be your friend, and depend upon it, that on the Continent, you will find the necessity of having one.”
“ There can but be one answer made to so frank a speech,” replied Charles. n
this explanation you have forestalled me, Mr. Wilmot, and have proposed exactly the plan' upon which I should wish to proceed. As I have the greatest respect for you, I shall always, apply to you for advice and assistance, and feel obliged by your kindness and friendship.”
From the moment of this conversation, the idea of tutor and pupil was dropped, and Charles, with Mr. Wilmot, travelled on as two intimate friends. Proceeding towards Lisle, they first visited Dunkirk, which appeared to Mr. Melville a much prettier town than Calais. This also, he was informed, was in the hands of the English until the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, who redeemed it for the sum of five millions.
The next object of attention in their route was Mount Cassel. The morning had been rather obscured by fog, but it soon passed away, and left behind a clear frosty atmosphere, which promised to display the prospect from the summit in its
greatest perfection. Starting suddenly out of the vast plain of Flanders, and commanding an unlimited view of the country round, Mount Cassel offered to the eye of Charles Melville, as he gazed from its lofty brow, a scene of such extent, that he had never before beheld any thing that would bear comparison with it; and the multitude of towns and villages scattered over the far-spread landscape, made him feel as if the world was within the compass of his vision; and when he descended from the height, to travel on to Lisle, he shut his eyes, feeling as if nature was contracted, and all other things grown insignificant, after the wide space he had taken in at one glance.
The inn at which the travellers stopped at Lisle was not the largest in the place, but was remarkable for its neatness, cleanliness, and comfort. The first thing Charles remarked on descending from the carriage was, that they were immediately saluted with the title of " mi lor”—“ As if," said
he, “Englishman was written in our faces.”
“ They see that by your servant,” said Mr. Wilmot : “ but it does not much signify what they call us.”
After dinner Mr. Wilmot proposed that they should visit the theatre, which was much frequented, and one of the most elegant in France : but, to their mortification, they were informed that it was not open that night; and Mr. Wilmot having letters to dispatch to England, sat down to write, while Charles, with nothing to do, walked up and down the room with evident symptoms of annoyance. At length a waiter entering the room, he demanded if there were any books to be procured. The waiter did not think
proper to commit himself by a positive answer, but retired to confer with his master on the subject, leaving Charles to continue his perambulation of the room, for such a length of time that his patience was almost exhausted, when mine host himself appeared, carrying in his hand a small parH 3
cel of papers. He was a little old Fleming, somewhat of the broadest, with small, sharp, grey eyes, set into a countenance whose skin, some ten or fifteen years before, had no doubt been distinguished by its rubicundity; but by the time we speak of, age, or damp, or tobacco smoke, or perhaps all three, had contrived to discharge the red from the greater part of its superfices, leaving a solitary rose to blossom on the centre of each cheek, while all around was a sort of parchment colour, except indeed the point of his nose, which, turned up on high, seemed, like the moun. tain peaks of which poets write, to catch the last concentrated rays of the declining sun, and blush with a proportionate vigour as all the rest is fading round them. He approached close up to Charles, who he perceived was the person in wánt of oceupation, and laying the short forefinger of his short right hand on the papers he held in his left, he began--ye gods, how he did talk !-with a rapidity that rendered all