"The fate of Prior," said Wentworth, " is I own a lesson in ambition, to all who plunge into politics upon the strength of literary talents alone, without the aid of birth, wealth, or connections, and without the distinguishing advantage of parliamentary abilities. But even those of the party who had all these, were by some fatality doomed to glitter a little, and then go out for ever. It is hard to think that such a man as Harcourt, illustrious from birth, as well as the great seal, should fall into contempt, and be reviled even by his friends-but more so that Atterbury, whom we so admire as a scholar, and look upon as a martyr to his sincerity in his principles, should also be vilified by the same friends, as wanting in the only qualities which can make a falling party respectable—fidelity. These are sad reflections to the public man, and might really tempt one to fall back upon private life, and dream it away in sweet illusion - often so much more happy than the most successful reality."

This sentiment surprised De Vere. He had sometimes, young as he was, entertained it himself, but had always fought against it, as visionary, or at least as one he had no right to indulge, till he had seen far more of the business of the

world. But that Wentworth, who had been nursed in that business, himself a minister, and, from opportunity, so close an observer of human nature in all its shapes, should breathe such an opinion, made him wonder. He, however, attributed much to the unhappy event which had deprived him of his friend, had affected his health, and in fact driven him from England; much also to the melancholy reflections inspired by the visit they had just paid; and something perhaps to the wild and secluded scenery in which they were now travelling.

CHAPTER XV.

THE PYRENEES.

Methinks I play, as I have seen them do

In Whitsun pastorals.

SHAKSPEARE.

THE two friends had now entered the Pyrenees; had passed the city of Tarbes on the road to Bagnieres; and, leaving their carriage for the horses of the country, had got agreeably involved in that beautiful succession of vallies,one surmounting another, but each closed in by rocky, though wooded mounds,-forming a little world of itself, where the news of what was passing among the nations below, was neither known nor cared for. The head of each valley was invariably hid by a wood of pines, through which, as invariably gushed a torrent of the clearest water, forming a stream which filled the whole length of the glen with verdure.

湯

On its banks were regular patches of corn, and maize, mingled among fruit trees, between which, gadded the vine-its ripe clusters hanging in festoons from tree to tree. The cottages to which these belonged, were built of stone, comfortably thatched, and sent forth a race of Montagnards whose well-made limbs and elastic tread, crimson sashes, trunk hose, and Montero caps, (the costume of Henri IV.), while they added to the beauty of the scene, made them look any thing but interested about political parties, or ministers of state. Every thing belonging to them was primitive; every thing within themselves. They sowed, and reaped, spun their own clothing, built their own houses, and married and were their own songs, sung given in marriage, every one, as it should seem, without stirring out of his own valley.

At that moment a groupe of peasants were gathering grapes; others were singing to their tambours basques; others, of both sexes, (the women with flowers in their hair,) dancing under a spreading chesnut.

Both Wentworth and De Vere were in rapture with the scene, and stopped their horses to enjoy it. They were peculiarly struck with the sound and the precision of the tambour

basque, an instrument somewhat like an Eolian harp, but larger. It had four strings, but only two notes, (like the kettle-drum) two and two being merely octaves. These the performer sounded with a stick, covered with a mouse, or other soft skin, whence the name of tambour, though much softer than a drum. It was played in admirable time, and the effect among the hills was very pleasing. In a few minutes the dancing ceased, and the party sat down under the trees to their dinners of soup, brown bread, and grapes.

The travellers viewed them in silence, and both were pensive, till Wentworth (evidently under the influence of the sentiment with which he had last concluded), exclaimed, "This is somewhat different from Parliament-street, as we saw it on the morning of our departure from London."

"It, indeed, seems a scene," said De Vere, "in which those illusive dreams you mentioned just now, might be indulged. And yet, I question if a man of the world, whatever his philosophy, even Bolingbroke himself (and least of all those heroes of Parliamentstreet), could dream here very long together.