LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1539, 23 January 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MASTER OP THE GOLDEN HOUSE. ["London Society."] (Continued.) ' Not if I know it,' I answered, in the vernacular of the period, ' Not for Joseph.' My mind, or what stood duty for my mind, was entirely absorbed in hunting and fishing just now. ' Because if you were, Blogram's room would be just the pkve to suit you, if you were going to road. Better not, perhaps, as Blogr»:n might cut up rough if he were to come suddenly and tiad his room occupied. Here is No 3 gold knocker.' This room was a plain comfortable bedchambar. A good tub, small swinging bookcase, J a business-like writing table with writing-materials. • Tbi* is our ordinary Ruest-room. I put it at the ure of any good fellow who likes to live in the living-rooms and to go out into the open air, and at the same time likes to write a letter or two, night and morning, or to carry off u;:-stairs a good book from the library. You have heard of the man who chose a wife by the way in which sho took cheese. I think I could tell you a man's character by the way in which he uses his bedroom.'

' Always excepting Blogram.' •Of course. Blogram ?a an exception to every rule. I only wish he would turn up, for I am very much bothered and worried just now.' ' Sorry for that, my kind friend. Can I help you ?' ' I will tell you about that by and by. Boom No. 4 with a golden knocker was a very similar room. • You will perceive, Mr Stuart, that I try to have a sort of social salad from my five golden guest rooms. I have my beauty ; then my wit or my philosopher, as the case may be ; then my sportsman, like yourself; then my familiar friend ; and here is one mr>re room which you ought to ace. This last room formed a remarkable contrast to the others. Here the gold was simply ungovernable. It raged and flaunt :d everywhere. The room was in thorough Parisian style. It was full of nicknacks and and ornamentation, and one could hardly move about comfortably. The_ place was gaudy ; the pictures meretricious. The china was ill-assorted. • You don't think much of this room?' ' No ; I can't say I care for it.'_ • These are lavish purchases which I made at a time when I had more money than wits. I call them "my failures," the silly bargains I made while I was teaching myself something batter. Between ourselves, I may tell you that I call it "the Pool's Boom."

• I hope you are not going to put me into it.'

' No, indesd, I assure you—at least, not at present, and I hope you will never deserve it. I shall put you into an ordinary room. If you want to read, you can make yourself comfortable in the library. By the way, I have ordered some supper there tonight. We shall be all there by ourselves, unless Mr Seymour Simpson turns up. I hope not,' he added, sotto voce.

Chapter V. WASTED, AN HErK. We had our supper. It was a regular French petit sonper, which looked rather odd in the wilds of Devonshire ; but he told me that ho always carried a French cook with him.

After suppor he rcso, and very carefully removfd from a .i,;cretairc a back number of the • Times,' and pointed to an advertisement in tho second column —

• If the present direct representative or heir-at-law of the Bampfylde family should apply to Messrs Abraham and Abraham of Lincoln'3-inn-ficlds it may be much to his advantage. He must be descended from John de Fampfield, to whom, a grant of abbey-lands in was made by Henry VIII. Any reasonable expenses of likely applicants will be paid.'

''■ It is rather a curious advertisement,'l paid; 'but I should think on a that was likely to -attract attention.' ' Attract attention ! I should just think so. Iha 1 about a hundred answers.' ' And what sorb of letters wer.e there V

't ot worth a rap—at iea.it the most of them. A good many oi them were regular impositions, attempting to get moir:y under the last clause of the advertisement. If it was clear that they had nothing to stand upon, I simply took no notice of their communication. In one or two cafe* I directed the lawyers to neud a small cheque, and to say that if necessary they would be communicated with farther, but that this was unlikely.'

• "Do you think that you will ever find the right man? These abbay-lands Lave always been unfortunate. Old SptJman says, you know, that a cur,- e.re&Js upon the possessors of them.'

' 0, as for that, the abbey-lauds and our family have long parted company—at least I have had to buy them back again. My possessions, such as they a-c, have been made by trade and investments in thetv modem davs. With me it is simply a question of relations. My Isjcds were no doubt part cf abbey originally, but tln-y were pevor wo'ii at a gambling-table, as in EJutt FTaVs time, but wore paid for with honest Ausfc alian gold.'

' And if you can find a legal beir will 3'ou leave him all the |mouey, whether you like him or not V

' It's just that which puzzles me so. If I don't like him. he will get no benefit from me-at least in my lifetime. But I should he sorry to disinherit even a man I dislike. I hold that after my life my lands at least ought to go back to my family. lam afraid that the man whom I like least has realty got the best claim—that fellow Simpson whom I hive had stay ing h: re.' 'I suppose you will sift hia claim closely ?' ' I should t'biuk so indeed. I have already submitted all the case to the AttorneyGeneral and the Solicitor-General, and the Attorney-General's devil—a very safe lawyer is that last gentleman. We are getting the very best of advice.' 'lt is quite a cause celebre, such as we mieht find in the Courts.'

'Exactly.' I want it to he tried in my lifetime instead of afterwards. I a»sure you that I have been to the Heralds' College, and they have given me arms and a motto. Then there is a wonderful old fellow who works away at the Rolls for me, who has constructed a regular pedigree and family tree, only we can never be quite sure that we have got all the branches. It appears to me that the further oil we go, the clearer the family records are; it ia only when we come to the last few generations that the matters become obscure.'

' I can very well understand that. Nothing has passed into history. 1 'Now this fellow Simpson is a lawyer—at least he is a lawyer's clerk ; and for all [ know is a duly qualified solicitor himself He hao put forward his claim in a duly lawyer-like and ship-shape form. The pedigree which he exhibits is remarkably like that which the Rolls man has made out"., and which I will show you to-morrow. Then he has a tomb-stone, a family Bible, and family register, which seem to bring him down in a direct line ' 1 1 expect that is the stock-in-trade of every claimant.' ' I caa't get judicial opinion ; but I can get the next best thing—the opinions of of those who will he judges by and by. There ave some half dozen men who are sure to be Chancellors or Chief Justices, and I will get all their opinions ; and Blograra will see all fair, and represent the Home Secretary, or the Court of Appeal, or anything else of the sort.' ' Capital.'

1 There vvaa one very nine little girl who wrote to me, and I really think she is some kind of relation. She wrote a very clear pretty account of my forbears, and she traced out her own immediate ancestors for several generations; and then there is a great gap, an utter absence of intermediate links between my family tree and her own people.. Now this is what Simpson does. He bridges thegnlf, and shows a consecutive range of ancestors. Now I liked this little girl, and I have asked her to come and see me ; and though I have said nothing to her about it, I shall give her and her mother twenty pounds for their expenses.? • And what is their name V

'Mrs Egerton and her daughter Eleanor.' '.And I suppose,' I said, repressing my emotiom 'Mr Simpson is coming in the same way.' ' O, as for Simpson, when I asked him, he bargained for three guineas a day and his expenses. If he hadn't claimed anything, I should have thought it right to give him much more than that.'

Just as he said this there was a loud ring at the front door, which sets the dogs in the hall howling. Presently Mr Simpson entered. Talk of the , &c. We all know the proverb.

I looked wi'h some interest on Mr Simpson, the millionaire in posse. Being entirely out of the competition, I was anxious to do so with the utmost fairness. But I confess ( did not at all like the man. His face was pale, with a livid look which almost suggested disease, an eye which revealed an expression of envy and suspicion, and there was a general look of vulgar worldiness and meanness about him. He had a voice whose native coarseness had been subdued to an even and subdued intonation, which evidenced great powers of restraint, bat which at the same lime had lost the freshness and buoyancy which all fair equal conversation ought to have. He had a little supper by himself, and then came into the billiard-room for a cigarette and some brandy-and-soda. It was a very uoi>le room, which rose to the height of the whole house. There was a fire of roaring logwood, and Mr Simpson ensconced himself with the air of a man who had spent a fruitful day, and performed a variety of virtuous actions.

'Wall, ooosin,' he aaid, 'and how isn't you?' Here was vulgarity at a glance, I thought to myself; and I observed also that the cousin visibly winced, lie was a man who r.t one iun? of his life had been eavironed by vulgar surroundings, but who, having a natural nobility of his own, and taken the best, instead of the worst, which the years had yielded, was, in his way, a great gentlemen, while the other wa» 'a roaring cad.'

'Such is life.' said Mr Simpson philosophically, as he poured out the sparkling seltzer into a tall glass with an amber substratum of liquor ; ' two hours ago I was a passenger in a third-class carriage. I suppose I am now in the best billiard-room in Devonshire.'

'Do you always travel third class ?' I asked. 'ln a third class you see a great varh/ty of life and hear a good many opinions. Gladstone often travels third class, y

' All th*t be blowed !' answored Mr Simpson. ' I charge the ollico first class and I travel third class, and I pockrt the difference. Isn't thai; a good way of doing business?'

' Quite legitimate, I should say,' said our host, but still he winced. * Went to serve a writ on a beggarly parson who lives the other side of Torcpaay. Nothing like combining business with pleasure. Of comßa I took a trap, and met the old parson himself, about three miles from the plape, on the high road. I offered the revereud gentleman a lift, and he liked it liko b,;ans. When we got comfortably into hiy parish ho begged ma to have a cup of tea with him. I had some tea, and then presented him with the writ.' {To he. continued.}