How little money need be expended to teach a child, and yet what a quantity of books we have to pay for! Amber had hardly ever looked into a book, and yet she knew more, that is, had more general useful knowledge than others who were twice her age. How small was Edward Forster’s little parlour — how humble the furniture it contained! — a carpet, a table, a few chairs, a small China vase, as an ornament, on the mantle-piece. How few were the objects brought to Amber’s view in their small secluded home! The plates and knives for dinner, a silver spoon or two, and their articles of wearing apparel. Yet how endless, how inexhaustible was the amusement and instruction derived from these trifling sources! — for these were Forster’s books.

  The carpet — its hempen ground carried them to the north, from whence the material came, the inhabitants of the frozen world, their manners and their customs, the climate and their cities, their productions and their sources of wealth. Its woollen surface, with its various dyes — each dye containing an episode of an island or a state, a point of natural history, or of art and manufacture.

  The mahogany table, like some magic vehicle, transported them in a second to the torrid zone, where the various tropical flowers and fruit, the towering cocoa-nut, the spreading palm, the broad-leaved banana, the fragrant pine — all that was indigenous to the country, all that was peculiar in the scenery and the clime, were pictured to the imagination of the delighted Amber.

  The little vase upon the mantle-piece swelled into a splendid atlas of eastern geography, an inexhaustible folio, describing Indian customs, the Asiatic splendour of costume, the gorgeous thrones of the descendants of the Prophet, the history of the Prophet himself, the superior instinct and stupendous body of the elephant; all that Edward Forster had collected of nature or of art, through these extensive regions, were successively displayed, until they returned to China, from whence they had commenced their travels. Thus did the little vase, like the vessel taken up by the fisherman in the Arabian Nights, contain a giant confined by the seal of Solomon — Knowledge.

  The knife and spoon brought food unto the mind as well as to the body. The mines were entered, the countries pointed out in which they were to be found, the various metals, their value, and the uses to which they were applied, The dress again led them abroad; the cotton hung in pods upon the tree, the silkworm spun its yellow tomb, all the process of manufacture was explained. The loom again was worked by fancy, until the article in comment was again produced.

  Thus was Amber instructed and amused; and thus, with nature for his hornbook, and art for his primer, did the little parlour of Edward Forster expand into “the universe.”

  Chapter Seven.

  ”They boast

  Their noble birth; conduct us to the tombs

  Of their forefathers, and from age to age

  Ascending, trumpet to their illustrious race.”

  Cowper.

  Devoted as he was to the instruction of his adopted child, Edward Forster was nevertheless aware that more was required in the education of a female than he was competent to fulfil. Many and melancholy were his reveries on the forlorn prospects of the little girl (considering his own precarious life and the little chance that appeared of restoring her to her friends and relations), still he resolved that all that could should be done; the issue he left to Providence. That she might not be cast wholly unknown upon the world, in case of his death, he had often taken Amber to a neighbouring mansion, with the owner of which, Lord Aveleyn, he had long been on friendly terms; although, until latterly, he had declined mixing with the society which was there collected. Many years before, the possessor had entered the naval service, and had, during the few months that he had served in the capacity of midshipman, been intrusted to the charge of Edward Forster.

  It is a curious fact, although little commented upon, how much society in general is affected by the entailment of property in aristocratical families upon the male heir; we may add, how much it is demoralised. The eldest son, accustomed from his earliest days to the flattery and adulation of dependents, is impressed with but one single idea, namely, that he is the fortunate person deputed by chance to spend so many thousands per annum, and that his brothers and sisters, with equal claims upon their parent, are to be almost dependent upon him for support. Of this the latter are but too soon made conscious, by the difference of treatment which they experience from those around them; and feelings of envy and ill-will towards their eldest brother are but too often the result of such inequality. Thus one of the greatest charms of life, unity between brethren, is destroyed.

  The possessor of the title and the estates is at last borne to his long home, there to lie until summoned before that presence where he and those who were kings, and those who were clowns, will stand trembling as erring men, awaiting the fiat of eternal justice. In his turn, the young lord revels in his youth.

  Then how much more trying is the situation of the younger brothers. During their father’s lifetime they had a home, and were brought up in scenes and with ideas commensurate with the fortune which had been entailed. Now, they find themselves thrown upon the world, without the means of support, even adequate to their wants. Like the steward in the parable, “they cannot dig, to beg they are ashamed;” and like him, they too often resort to unworthy means to supply their exigences.

  Should the young heir prove sickly, what speculations on his demise! The worldly stake is so enormous, that the ties of nature are dissolved, and a brother rejoices at a brother’s death! One generation is not sufficient to remove these feelings; the barrenness of his marriage bed, or the weakly state of his children, are successively speculated upon by the presumptive heir. Let it not be supposed that I would infer this always to be the fact. I have put the extreme case, to point out what must ensue, according to the feelings of our nature, if care is not taken to prevent its occurrence. There is a cruelty, a more than cruelty, in parents bringing up their children with ideas which seldom can be realised, and rendering their future lives a pilgrimage of misery and discontent, if not of depravity.

  But the major part of our aristocracy are neither deficient in talent nor in worth. They set a bright example to the nobles of other countries, and very frequently even to the less demoralised society of our own. Trammelled by the deeds of their forefathers, they employ every means in their power to remedy the evil, and a large proportion of their younger branches find useful and honourable employment in the army, the navy, or the church. But their numbers cannot all be provided for by these channels, and it is the country at large which is taxed to supply the means of sustenance to the younger scions of nobility; taxed directly in the shape of place and sinecure, indirectly in various ways, but in no way so heavily as by the monopoly of the East India Company, which has so long been permitted to oppress the nation, that these detrimentals (as they have named themselves) may be provided for. It is a well-known fact, that there is hardly a peer in the upper House, or many representatives of the people in the lower, who are not, or who anticipate to be, under some obligation to this Company by their relations or connections being provided for in those distant climes; and it is this bribery (for bribery it is, in whatever guise it may appear) that upholds one of the most glaring, the most oppressive of all monopolies, in the face of common sense, common justice and common decency. Other taxes are principally felt by the higher and middling classes; but this most odious, this most galling tax, is felt even in the cottage of the labourer, who cannot return to refresh himself after his day of toil with his favourite beverage without paying twice its value out of his hard-earned pittance, to swell the dividend of the Company, and support these pruriencies of noble blood.

  And yet, deprecating the evils arising from the system of entail, I must acknowledge that there are no other means by which (in a monarchical government) the desirable end of upholding rank is to be obtained. I remember once, when conversing with an American, I inquired after one or two of his countrymen, who but a few years before were of great wealth and influence. To one of my remarks he answered, “In our country all the wealth and power at the time attached to it does not prevent a name from sinking into insignificance, or from being forgotten soon after its possessor is dead, for we do not entail property. The distribution scatters the amassed heap, by which the world around him had been attracted; and although the distribution tends to the general fertilisation of the country, yet with the disappearance, the influence of the possessor and even his name are soon forgotten.”

  These remarks, as will appear in the sequel, are apposite to the parties which I am about to introduce to the reader. As, however, they are people of some consequence, it may appear to be a want of due respect on my part, if I were to introduce them at the fag-end of a chapter.

  Chapter Eight.

  “’Twas his the vast and trackless deep to rove,

  Alternate change of climates has he known,

  And felt the fierce extremes of either zone,

  Where polar skies congeal th’ eternal snow,

  Or equinoctial suns for ever glow;

  Smote by the freezing or the scorching blast,

  A ship-boy on the high and giddy mast.”

  Falconer.

  The father of the present Lord Aveleyn had three sons, and, in conformity with the usages commented upon in the preceding chapter, the two youngest were condemned to the army and navy; the second, who had priority of choice, being dismissed to gather laurels in a red coat, while the third was recommended to do the same, if he could, in a suit of blue. Fairly embarked in their several professions, a sum of fifty pounds per annum was placed in the hands of their respective agents, and no more was thought about a pair of “detrimentals.”

  Lord Aveleyn’s father, who had married late in life, was summoned away when the eldest brother of the present Lord Aveleyn, the heir, was yet a minor, about two years after he had embarked in the ship to which Edward Forster belonged. Now it was the will of Providence that, about six months after the old nobleman’s decease, the young lord and his second brother, who had obtained a short furlough, should most unadvisedly embark in a small sailing boat on the lake close to the mansion, and that, owing to some mismanagement of the sail, the boat upset, and they were both drowned.

  As soon as the melancholy intelligence was made known to the trustees, a letter was despatched to Captain L — , who commanded the ship in which young Aveleyn was serving his time, acquainting him with the catastrophe, and requesting the immediate discharge of the young midshipman. The captain repaired on board; when he arrived on the quarter-deck, he desired the first-lieutenant to send down for young Aveleyn.

  “He is at the mast-head, sir,” replied the first-lieutenant, “for neglect of duty.”

  “Really, Mr W — ,” replied the captain, who had witnessed the boy’s ascent at least a hundred times before with perfect indifference, and had often sent him up himself, “you appear to be very sharp upon that poor lad; you make no allowance for youth — boys will be boys.”

  “He’s the most troublesome young monkey in the ship sir,” replied the first-lieutenant, surprised at this unusual interference.

  “He has always appeared to me to be a well-disposed, intelligent lad, Mr W — ; and I wish you to understand that I do not approve of this system of eternal mast-heading. However, he will not trouble you any more, as his discharge is to be immediately made out. He is now,” continued the captain, pausing to give more effect to his communication, “Lord Aveleyn.”

  “Whew! now the murder’s out,” mentally exclaimed the first-lieutenant.

  “Call him down immediately, Mr W — , if you please — and recollect that I disapprove of the system.”

  “Certainly, sir; but really, Captain L — , I don’t know what I shall do if you restrict my power of punishing the young gentlemen; they are so extremely unruly. There’s Mr Malcolm,” continued the first-lieutenant, pointing to a youngster who was walking on the other side of the deck, with his hands in his pockets, “it was but yesterday that he chopped off at least four inches from the tail of your dog ‘Ponto,’ at the beef-block, and pretends it was an accident.”

  “What! my setter’s tail?”

  “Yes, sir, he did, I can assure you.”

  “Mr Malcolm,” cried the captain, in great wrath, “how came you to cut off my dog’s tail?”

  Before I went to sea I had always considered a London cock-sparrow to be the truest emblem of consummate impudence; but I have since discovered that he is quite modest compared to a midshipman.

  “Me, sir?” replied the youngster, demurely. “I didn’t cut off his tail, sir; he cut it off himself!”

  “What, sir!” roared the captain.

  “If you please, sir, I was chopping a piece of beef, and the dog, who was standing by, turned short round, and put his tail under the chopper.”

  “Put his tail under the chopper, you little scamp!” replied Captain L — , in a fury. “Now just put your head above the maintop-gallant cross-trees, and stay there until you are called down. Mr W — , you’ll keep him up till sunset.”

  “Ay, ay, sir,” replied the first-lieutenant, with a satisfactory smile at the description of punishment inflicted.

  When I was a midshipman, it was extremely difficult to avoid the mast-head. Out of six years served in that capacity, I once made a calculation that two of them were passed away perched upon the cross-trees, looking down, with calm philosophy, upon the microcosm below. Yet, although I never deserved it, I derived much future advantage from my repeated punishments. The mast-head, for want of something worse to do, became my study; and during the time spent there, I in a manner finished my education. Volumes after volumes were perused to while away the tedious hours; and I conscientiously believe it is to this mode of punishment adopted by my rigid superiors that the world is indebted for all the pretty books which I am writing.

  I was generally exalted either for thinking or not thinking; and as I am not aware of any medium between the active and passive state of our minds (except dreaming, which is still more unpardonable), the reader may suppose that there is no exaggeration in my previous calculation of one-third of my midshipman existence having been passed away upon “the high and giddy mast.”

  “Mr M — ,” would the first-lieutenant cry out, “why did you stay so long on shore with the jolly-boat?”

  “I went to the post-office for the officers’ letters, sir.”

  “And pray, sir, who ordered you?”

  “No one, sir; but I thought—”

  “You thought, sir! How dare you think? — go up to the mast-head, sir.”

  So much for thinking.

  “Mr M — ,” would he say at another time, when I came on board, “did you call at the admiral’s office?”

  “No, sir; I had no orders. I didn’t think—”

  “Then why didn’t you think, sir? Up to the mast-head, and stay there till I call you down.”

  So much for not thinking. Like the fable of the wolf and the lamb, it was all the same; bleat as I pleased, my defence was useless, and I could not avert my barbarous doom.

  To proceed: Captain L — went over the side; the last pipe had been given, and the boatswain had returned his call into his jacket-pocket, and walked forward, when the first-lieutenant, in pursuance of his orders, looked up aloft, intending to have hailed the new lord, and have requested the pleasure of his company on deck; but the youngster, feeling a slight degree of appetite, after enjoying the fresh air for seven hours without any breakfast, had just ventured down the topmast rigging, that he might obtain possession of a bottle of tea and some biscuit, which one of his messmates had carried up for him, and stowed away in the bunt of the maintopsail. Young Aveleyn, who thought that the departure of the captain would occupy the attention of the first-lieutenant, had just descended to, and was placing his foot on, the topsail yard, when Mr W — looked up, and witnessed this act of disobedience. As this was a fresh offence committed, he thought himself warranted in not complying with the captain’s mandate, and the boy was ordered up again, to remain till sunset. “I would have called him down,” muttered Mr W — , whose temper had been soured from long disappointment; “but since he’s a lord, he shall have a good spell of it before he quits the service; and then we shall not have his recommendation to others in his own rank to come into it, and interfere with our promotion.”

  Now, it happened that Mr W — , who had an eye like a hawk, when he cast his eyes aloft, observed that the bunt of the maintopsail was not exactly so well stowed as it ought to be on board of a man-of-war; which is not to be wondered at, when it is recollected that the midshipmen had been very busy enlarging it to make a pantry. He therefore turned the hands up, “mend sails,” and took his station amidship on the booms, to see that this, the most delinquent sail, was properly furled.

  “Trice up — lay out — All ready forward?”— “All ready, sir.”— “All ready abaft?”— “All ready, sir.”— “Let fall.” — Down came the sails from the yards, and down also came the bottle of tea and biscuit upon the face of the first-lieutenant, who was looking up; the former knocking out three of his front teeth, besides splitting open both his lips and chin.

  Young Aveleyn, who witnessed the catastrophe, was delighted; the other midshipmen on deck crowded round their superior, to offer their condolements, winking and making faces at each other in by-play, until the first-lieutenant descended to his cabin, when they no longer restrained their mirth.