The hour for the dinner, which was to introduce Glendenning
and his friend, at length arrived, and Mr. and Mrs.
Lennox, Frank, Harry, and Mary, repaired to the drawing-room
to receive the guests.

First came the Eltons, the old gentleman looking rather
grave; Mrs. Elton, her face, as usual, radiant with pleasure,
talking the whole time from the moment she entered; Fanny,
arrayed in all the charm of youthful beauty which exercised
such an influence over the two susceptible young
men, and which was destined unconsciously to mingle such
consequences in the subsequent lives of more than one of
the persons present. Then Mary went down stairs, and
led in, almost by force, little Seth Copeley, in a perfect
flame of blushes, partly called up by the idea of appearing,
for the first time in his life, in society, and partly by the
lively consciousness of having on a very new suit of uncommonly
city-looking clothes.

“Come in, Seth, come in,” said Mary, whose good heart
took a great interest in this friendless boy, and who had
arranged, with somewhat more taste than he had been able

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

to do, various points of his toilet, brushed back his locks
from his forehead, and put a neat brooch, a present from
herself, into the folds of his stock. “What are you afraid
ef? I do believe, if I had not gone down stairs and brought
him up, we should not have had the pleasure of his society
to-day.”

“Walk up here, you young Lothario!” said Mr. Lennox,
“and let us look at you. What are you twisting your
waistcoat button off in that style for? Have you any conscientious
objections to buttons?”

“No, sir,” said Seth, after one of his short laughs.

“Very well, then. Take your hands out of your pantaloons
pockets; throw back your shoulders; lift up your
head; stand strait. Look at me, sir! Can't you stand so,
sir?”

“He is really a very handsome, sweet little fellow,”
whispered Mrs. Elton, loud enough for him and every one
else to hear her, “and such delightful eyes! I'm sure one
of these days those eyes will do their affair, and—”

“How do you expect to become a lawyer and a gentleman,
sir,” continued Mr. Lennox, “if you bury yourself in
an office, and do nothing but read and copy? The law is
the noblest profession in the world. It offers you a brilliant
career, and demands knowledge not only of books, but
of men. That's the reason why I have asked you to dine
with me to-day. You must begin to accustom yourself to
society, to meet men and women without flinching or being
flustered. Stop that blushing, sir! How do you think
you'll ever be able to perform the high functions of President
of the United States—as I presume you will have to
do one of these days—if you can't come into a room without
obviously wishing you could leave your hands and feet
at the bottom of the Red Sea?”

“Come here, Seth,” said Mrs. Lennox; “you'll learn all
these things by-and-by. You shall sit next me, my dear
little boy, and I'll take care of you at dinner.”

The poor fellow went awkwardly where he was bid, glad
to escape the boisterous benevolence of his master. As he
did so, guests were announced in quick succession.

The usual salutations had scarcely passed, when the
conversation, by general consent, appeared to fall on the
two expected English guests. Various opinions were expressed
as to the extraordinary character of Glendenning,

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

who was warmly defended by Mr. Lennox, Frank, and Mrs.
Elton, against the rest of the company. Frank praised him
enthusiastically. His father declared against the principle
of putting a man in coventry because he had exhibited the
follies of youth; and Mrs. Elton was sure he was a noble
fellow from his magnanimous conduct on the field, where he
had risked his own life by wasting his shot, and, at the
same time, saved that of Frank, and where he had made
all the reparation possible. Any one, she said, was liable
to do wrong, but only the good were ashamed of it afterward;
and we ought to recollect that there was more joy in
heaven at the recovery of one lost sinner than for the ninety-nine
who had never gone astray. She was going on to
relate an occurrence which had come under her own observation
only two years previous, when she was interrupted
by the opening of the door, and the servants announcing
Captain White and Captain Glendenning. They were received
by Frank with a countenance expressive of the sincerest
pleasure, and led by him first to his mother, then to
his father, who shook them warmly by the hand. The
kind greeting of Mrs. Lennox was rendered much less difficult
than she had supposed it would be, by the agreeable
surprise she felt at seeing a person so different from what
she had expected. The two strangers were presented to
all the company, including the Eltons and Fanny. At the
sight of the latter the embarrassment and shame of Glendenning
were so obvious as to considerably soften the sentiment
of indignation which had been generally felt at his
entrance. Fanny at first turned pale, but her colour came
presently back deeper than before. There was a moment's
extremely awkward pause, which Glendenning broke, with
equal grace and frankness, by touching boldly and successfully
the dangerous chord vibrating in every breast.

“I should think myself at this moment even more censurable
than I am if I hesitated to express, my dear Mrs.
Lennox, my shame and regret at what has happened; and
my appearance before you would be a new insult if I did
not come most deeply repentant and to seek your pardon!”

“Nonsense, my dear fellow!” said Frank. “Don't give
yourself the trouble.”

“You are the first, sir,” said Mrs. Lennox, “to touch
upon a subject which I should not have alluded to, as it
cannot but awaken in a mother's breast emotions far from

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

agreeable. But your frankness merits equal frankness in
return, and I will confess I did not think, ten minutes ago,
that any circumstance could make me forgive you. I hope,
however, I am too much of a Christian to withhold from true
repentance the pardon which we all ourselves require.”

“Bravo! my dear mother!” said Frank, in high glee at
the smooth manner in which affairs were going.

“If Miss Elton, also,” rejoined Glendenning, “knew how
I detest myself for the incident which has distressed her,
she too would forgive me.”

Miss Elton bowed her head without speaking.

“I assure you,” said White, “my friend has changed
more since the little affair with your son than I could have
believed possible; and, upon my soul, I haven't the slightest
doubt that he will get on hereafter famously.”

“Say no more!” said Lennox; “you will find me, boys,
always as ready to grant pardon, when asked, as to—”

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Lennox, who saw that her candid
husband was running upon breakers. “If the affair have
had such a favourable effect upon what, I hope, is but the
thoughtlessness of youth, I shall regret it the less.”

“Since it has made us acquainted with Captain Glendenning
and his friend, I don't think we can regret it at all,”
said Lennox.

“My dear father!” cried Frank.

Dinner was announced, and the company were soon seated.
The manner and appearance of Glendenning, as well
as every word he said, gained him the good opinion of all
present, who, like Mrs. Lennox, had been prepared to meet
a very different sort of person. Instead of a coarse roué, he
was a slender, handsome young man of six-and-twenty, of
manners mild and modest, a prepossessing and even beautiful
countenance, and betraying, in various ways, embarrassment,
ingenuousness, delicacy of feeling, and kindness
of heart. Mrs. Lennox felt singularly interested in him,
and resolved to inquire into his history. As she sat near
White she was enabled to do so, and privately learned from
that gentleman all she desired.

“Glendenning,” said White, “has a constitutional peculiarity.
His temper is as quick and his blood as hot as
his judgment (although good when it makes itself heard)
is slow. With the best heart in the world, and the very
best intentions, he has always been in difficulty. He lost

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

his mother, whom he tenderly loved, at the age of thirteen,
and his father immediately married again, by which he
brought an accession of two thousand a year to his fortune,
a woman of a sharp, peculiarly disagreeable temper and
character into his house, and a world of trouble to poor
Charley. The step-mother hated him of course. The
father, also, of course played into the hands of the lady.
Charley inherited from his mother an independence of his
own, which, perhaps, made him less patient than he should
have been. There are half a dozen step-sisters and step-brothers,
who all hate him like the parents, and he hates
them as heartily. His hot temper, perhaps, did carry him
too far in his relations with them. Considering his own
mother's memory wronged by the sudden union, for, in truth,
`the funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage
tables,' he found the feeble affection which his father
bore him not enough to protect him from certain annoyances
at home, and he was therefore driven into a course
of dissipation. He then shunned society, and sought only
companions of an improper description, till they bought him
a commission, more to get rid of him than anything else,
and his papa, after recommending me to keep an eye on
him, and see that he did not get himself hanged, or in any
other way disgrace his family (I really don't think the old
gentleman cares one iota about Charley himself), shipped
him off, and I have been his best friend ever since. I assure
you, a more affectionate, generous, warm-hearted, noble
fellow never breathed. Since the little affair with your son
he has apparently devoted some time to sober reflection, and
I have no doubt he will become as fine a fellow as heart
can wish. In short, I think his interval of thoughtless desperation
is over. He has gone through his transition state,
and I should judge him to be a reformed man.”

“You have greatly interested me in him,” said Mrs. Lennox.
“Do you remain long at New-York?”

“Some weeks, I think.”

“If your friend and yourself can be induced to visit us
sometimes, I should like to see more of him.”

“Oh! he will, I doubt not, be happy; and I must assure
you the magnanimity you display in forgiving him will not
fail to make a deep and salutary impression on him.”

“I hope so; he appears to possess a fine mind.”

“And a very grateful and warm heart, I assure you.”

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

The hope of being able to exert a beneficial influence on
such a character inspired Mrs. Lennox with the resolution
to make the attempt, and there was something in the face
of her proposed pupil which caused her to think the undertaking
not an extravagant one.

While this conversation was going on, in a low voice, between
Mrs. Lennox and Captain White, Mrs. Elton was
talking so busily to Glendenning as to preclude the possibility
of his attending to anything else, and Mrs. Henderson
was stating the very disagreeable impression both the strangers
made on her to Mr. Brigham, and her astonishment at
finding such improper persons at table with her.

“Mr. Lennox is, I, of all persons, should allow,” said
that lady, carefully lowering her voice, so that Harry, who
sat near, could catch nothing of her communications, “a
most excellent man. To me he has been the most devoted
friend, but it is curious what ideas he has on some subjects,
and how his wife yields to him on all occasions.”

“And should not a wife yield to her husband?” mildly
asked Mr. Brigham.

“Well! I don't know,” said she, fixing her envious black
eyes on the persons of whom she spoke, while a shade of
sharp discontent passed over her forbidding, yellow countenance.
“Mrs. Lennox is an amiable, nice woman, and I
ought to be the last person in the world to say anything
against her, since she is my husband's only sister, and both
I and Mr. Henderson have received nothing but one continued
series of hospitalities from them, and they have, with
their princely fortune, as you know, been the means of putting
my husband into his prosperous business. I am sure
they love us with all their hearts, and never lose an opportunity
of showing it. One can't help using one's eyes and
ears, you know. But I ought to be the last person—”

“Your kind heart,” said Mr. Brigham, with a gentle irony,
“instructs you wisely to be silent respecting the weaknesses
of your friends.”

“Certainly. If there is one thing in this world which I
hate more than another, it is backbiting. I'm like a child
in that respect. My heart always gets the better of my
head. What a lovely girl Fanny has grown?”

“Yes.”

“I think her character has improved as much as her
person.”

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

“I always fancied Miss Elton the gentlest of beings.”

“Yes, she has that look.”

“The whole family are perfect,” said Mrs. Elton to
Glendenning. “There isn't a fault in one of them. Two
such noble young men were never seen. Mary is an angel
out of heaven, and Mr. Lennox the most delightful of men,
while my dear Mrs. Lennox—ah!” and tears actually came
into her eyes, “if you knew her as I do, Captain Glendenning,
you would love her with all the devotion of a son.”

“It is all very well,” said Harry to Elton (who had designedly
led his young friend to the subject of religion
again), “but duelling is, and ought to be sanctioned by public
opinion, and society could not hold together without it.”

“You will allow, I think,” said Elton, “that Christianity
forbids it?”

“Yes.”

“That it regards it as a crime?”

“Yes.”

“Then you cannot fight a duel without violating the spirit
and precept of Christianity?”

“Yes.”

“Then the question narrows itself to a single one: will
you admit the institution of duelling and dismiss Christianity,
or will you embrace Christianity and denounce duelling?”

“It does!”

“And yet you advocate duelling?”

“I do.”

“Then you are willing to see Christianity rejected by
mankind?”

“A grave question,” said Harry, after a pause. “But
no man shall make me a hypocrite. Christianity is a useful
institution. I do not wish to see it destroyed. But it
is not true; it is not divine. Its precepts are beautiful, but
not possible. They cannot be applied to practice, nor am
I singular in thinking so, however I may be in confessing
my thoughts. Other people think the same; but they do
not say so. Only a few enthusiasts, or men not fairly
brought into the currents of active life, pretend to make the
precepts of Christ really the shapers of thought and the rules
of action. I would not express these opinions to the world,
not even to my own friends generally. But to you, who
are not a bigot, I speak freely.”

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

“I honour your frankness,” said Mr. Elton, “as much as I
regret your opinions. Most men, particularly the ardent and
self-confident, if possessed of thinking and cultivated minds,
are liable, not only to doubt, but to disbelieve, at some period of
their lives. If it had been the intention of Providence that
the subject should be placed to the world at large beyond a
doubt, then no one could have doubted. It is the most solemn
one which can engage the attention of a human being,
and, in proportion as life glides away, its solemnity and importance
increase. But it requires, to the generality of
mankind, attention and study like any other of the various
advantages which are placed within the reach of industry.
If it pleased you flippantly to deny the truths of astronomy,
you might do so, and only study could place you in possession
of them. The earth does not seem to us round or in
motion. You are not conscious of being whirled through
space at the rate of so many thousand miles an hour. To
the ignorant you may even successfully deny these facts,
and appeal to reason, sight, and common sense with success;
only study and examination can make you properly
acquainted with the subject, which turns out to be, upon examination,
very different from what it appears to mere human
sight and mere human reason. So with the still more
vast spiritual truths of Christianity. From your love of
right, from the clearness of your understanding and the virtues
of your heart, I hope, when you have tested by trial the
insufficiency of infidelity to bear a human soul even to the
verge of eternity; when you have had time fairly to discover
the empty errors which now wear in your eyes the aspect
of truth, I hope you will reconsider the subject and change
your opinion. My object in eliciting from you the present
distinct avowal of your complete unbelief is to let you yourself
see clearly what your own opinions are. Don't slip
through life without being anything; without either belief
or unbelief. Irrational animals may do this, but a rational
being is formed to acquire opinions by reason, used in study
or reflection. Excuse me for sliding into a sermon at dinner;
this is not the proper place and you are not in the proper
mood. I should be glad to speak with you oftener alone,
coolly and with only truth for our object. Now, however,
all I wish is to establish one point. You are an infidel;
that is, you do not believe the Bible. It is certain, as you
say, that Christendom is full of professing Christians who

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

do not believe more than yourself. You are young: life
is before you. You will have time to observe, if God please
to prolong your days. All I ask of you is, do observe.
Don't avoid or forget the subject.”

“I appreciate the interest you show in me,” said Harry.
“But to him who has not yet chosen any religion, it is
necessary, if resolved on adopting one, that he should study
them all. I should spend my days and nights in comparing
Fetichism with Sabeism, the claims of Mohammed,
Brahma, and Confucius. My professional studies must not
be neglected while engaged in these misty researches, and
I fear I should waste my life before I had succeeded in
ascertaining what it is, whence it came, and to what it
tends.”

“You are young and happy,” said Elton, gravely. “You
will not always continue so. There are years when the
mortal stands, or seems to stand, in no need of religion. But
years pass away. If you will allow, we will resume this
subject at some future time.”

“I fear it will be of no avail; but I can never refuse the
advice which comes from a friend.”

This debate was conducted between the two speakers,
and was not, probably, overheard by any one else. Elton
was surprised to find the steady determination with which
his young companion adhered to opinions so dangerous,
while Harry secretly congratulated himself on having always
the best of the argument (although, in truth, Mr. Elton
had not commenced to argue at all), and regarded the latter
as a very worthy, Puritanical gentleman, who believed the
nonsense he had been taught from his cradle, and he envied
him his self-satisfied freedom from doubt.

“What a delightful painting I could make of this circle,”
said Brigham to Harry, “in this light. Upon my soul, I
have a mind to do it, as a sort of continuation to your family
history.”

“You have painted us all so many times before,” said
Harry, alluding to several productions on the wall, “that I
should think you would be nearly tired of us.”

The pieces to which Harry referred were various paintings
and drawings of the children in as many attitudes and
costumes. There was Frank, a two-years' old child, with
his papa's hat and coat on. Harry, a boy of thirteen,

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

looking you directly in the face with an expression of sunshiny,
careless happiness, which formed a striking contrast to his
present countenance. Mary, as a shepherdess of ten, tending
a lamb; and Frank, again, still earlier, with a rattle and
coral.

“I have heard your father speak lately of a tour in Europe,”
said Brigham, “and Frank is going off to Prairie du
Chien; your sister will be getting married next, and what
say you to a small painting, but sufficiently large to preserve
portraits, and to produce all the effect of reality, of
this company just as it now is.”

“If it could be done soon,” said Harry, thinking of his
own plans of travel, “I should like it of all things, and very
seriously I engage you to do it. You can take portraits from
every person. I'll have even little Seth in.”

“I'll do it,” said Brigham. “I'll set about it immediately.
I should scarcely need to alter an attitude. Miss
Elton in the foreground, and those two English officers,
your father and Emmerson, your mother and Frank. We
must talk of this hereafter. Your father especially will
make an admirable head.”

“We'll talk of this more particularly to-morrow,” said
Harry.

“Emmerson's is a singular-looking countenance. He's a
clever man, I believe?” asked Brigham.

“Oh, very; the apple of my father's eye. His history
is interesting.”

“I think I have heard of a service your father rendered
him.”

“Ten years ago,” said Harry, “my father had occasion
to visit, several times, one of the prisoners in the old jail.
While there he observed a man of three or four-and-thirty,
of quiet manners and not unpleasing exterior, shabbily dressed,
pale, thin, and evidently unhappy. He was informed that
the person was an attorney, who was imprisoned for a small
debt, and seemed to suffer in health as well as spirits, particularly
from want of good food and bedclothing. The old
Roman law which gave to creditors the dead body of their
debtor was less barbarous than that of our enlightened land,
which then plunged the living into a cheerless dungeon, deprived
them of the means to exercise their industry, and yet,
while the felon was fed, made no provision to supply them
with the necessaries of life.”

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

“Yes, it is really startling to observe,” said Brigham,
“what abhorrent forms of error sometimes stand in the
midst of us, with the daylight shining full upon them, and
yet exciting no notice because we are used to them.”

“Well,” said Harry, “my father sought the acquaintance
of this person—offered his services—sent him the best of
food from his own table—supplied him with books, newspapers,
etc., till at length, learning his history, and also that
he had been practising law for a year in New-York, or,
rather, endeavouring to practise it, without the least chance
of obtaining any business, requested to pay his debt, which
was only $300, and to take him into his own office as an
attorney, to assist him in business. He found him well-informed,
keen, and intelligent, a perfectly cool and steady
business mind, and a careful, indefatigable student. I believe
he often sits up the whole night to study, and he has
now got to be such an able lawyer that, although he has
not the talent of oratory, he really takes the lead in the
business of the office, and is a most invaluable assistance.
He is a silent man, very quiet, very modest, very amiable.
He never speaks of the circumstances under which he
made our acquaintance, but I presume he feels them not
the less deeply; and he devotes himself to the business of
the office with such indefatigable zeal and fidelity, that we
all see in it the evidence of a mind not the less grateful because
somewhat reserved and silent.”

“You spoke of his history. What is it?”

“He is the son of an honest farmer, who, although himself
poor and uneducated, discovered the intelligence of his
son, and sent him to school and then to college, where his
severe application acquired for him a respectable standing.
He afterward taught Latin and Greek as an usher in a
day school while he was studying law; and when admitted
to the bar and obliged to abandon this means of support,
his cold and silent manners not being of a kind likely to
procure him friends and clients, he languished for some
time in obscurity and indigence, necessarily running in
debt, till at last, although one of the very cleverest men at
the bar, he found himself in jail.”

“Poor fellow!”

“Ah! now the scene is changed. My father loves and
trusts him like a brother. Everything is committed to his
hands. I, so much his junior in age, and so much his

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

inferior in instruction and in habits of study, am very glad of
an opportunity to learn under such an able master. We all
love him as a superior being. Everything is Mr. Emmerson
with us. If my father is at a loss for an opinion, he
goes to Mr. Emmerson. If he thinks of purchasing a house
or a horse, he consults Mr. Emmerson. If Frank wants
anything, he applies to Mr. Emmerson. If I am at a loss,
and my father is not at hand, Emmerson is my man. And
I vow, I believe my mother, who esteems him entire perfection,
if she were hesitating whether to have mince-pie
or plum-pudding for desert, would go down and ask the advice
of Mr. Emmerson.”

“Ha, ha, ha! I suppose his fortune is made, then?”

“I believe my father considers it to be, at least, secure.
He received at first a salary, which was subsequently raised.
When I entered the office as a partner, it was agreed
that we should, after the third year, make a new arrangement,
putting him upon an equal footing. My father, you
know, has scarcely need of his professional income, either
for himself or any of his family except me, and is too happy
in being able to bring forward so clever a man as Emmerson;
we are, in fact, going to arrange the matter this
very summer.”

“He must be a great pleasure to you all.”

“He is, as my mother often says, `perfection,' and, at
the same time, in business I never saw a keener, more
watchful, far-seeing eye. In fact, there is something rather
remarkable about him.”

“And the young, country-looking boy, farther down, who
is he?”

“What, Seth? Ah, poor little Seth! ha, ha, ha! Another
of my father's protégés. A little country fellow from
Vermont, well-descended from the Green Mountain Boys,
who resisted every attempt, vi et armis, to make a cobbler
of him, and declared he would be nothing but a scholar and
a great lawyer. He was whipped at the plough, they say,
worse than the oxen which drew it, and sent into the barn
to thresh corn, only to be much more thoroughly threshed
himself, till at last his father kicked him neck and heels
out of doors, and told him to go and be a gentleman and be—
closing with a very naughty word. His mother, however,
sent after him a small, yearly supply of cash, which
he made go a great ways. My father met him by chance

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

during an excursion into Vermont, and you know his enthusiasm
for anything striking and out of the common routine.
He ordered the young lad into his room, examined him a
little, found he had picked up a good deal of learning in the
raw material, and offered him a place as clerk in his office
with a pittance sufficient to live on. We've had him now
several years. I like him much; so do the rest of us; but
Emmerson finds him rather intractable. Nevertheless, my
father does his best to bring him out; my father never does
anything by halves, you know. It is his happiness to do
good—to help along young people in the world—to find
merit anywhere—the more unsuspected the place, the better,—
and to call it forth. He fancies he sees in little Seth a
certain excellence of nature, and a certain moral and intellectual
capacity, which circumstances and time are to ripen
into something very remarkable. I don't know how it is.
I like him; but Emmerson, whose opinion has great weight,
says he's a stupid, obstinate little mule, and that nothing
can be made of him worth the trouble we have bestowed
on him. This judgment of Emmerson has put poor Seth
lately rather under a cloud, and nobody but my father, whose
heart shines on all alike, continues to have any high hopes
of him. He invites him to his own table as one of his sons,
as he says, to form his manners and make a gentleman of
him. Poor Seth!”

The eyes of both the gentlemen here turned on Seth,
who, attired in his elegant suit of new clothes, presented
rather a ludicrous figure. He had a long shirt-collar,
which, while it appeared in danger of cutting his ears off,
at the same time interfered with the ingress of food into his
mouth, and the aspiring propensities of which Mary had in
vain endeavoured to bring under. He said nothing, and
when spoken to, only blushed deeply, and stammered an
answer that made him appear all that Emmerson had declared
him. He formed a striking contrast to Emmerson
himself, who, although his manners were peculiarly quiet
and unassuming, was drawn into the general conversation
several times, and discovered an extensive information, displaying
a mind stored with facts, the result of long study;
and the respect with which he was listened to by all the
members of the Lennox family communicated itself imperceptibly
to the rest of the company.

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