The Life and Adventures of Theodore Smartville

Chapter I

transactions of the Smartvilles. No doubt there might have been some records left, purporting for the world's information how a Smartville had lived and died — who in herited his plate and revenues, and who was his successor, — but as we have never chanced upon any such rollr and as it tendeth but little to the amusement and gratification of the reader, otherwise than satisfying a latent curiosity, he must be content without, and console himseif with a chronicle of the present. All that's known is, that they were a very ancient family, and no doubt first made their appearance in a glorious reign, when the glorious days of chivalry were in existence, and glorious sums of money could be coined abroad in warfare. Being an introductory Chapter, treats a little of the pedigree of the Smartville family.

When writing the adventures of certain persons, it is very necessary, both to the author and the reader, with a view of esta blishing a mutual understanding between them, to say a few words concerning the parentage, genealogy, &c, of the hero or heroine (as the case may be), in the form of a prefatory chapter, before setting out those mishaps, exploits, and enterprises which mark their career during their respective journies on the voyage of life. It is for this reason that this chapter, the first of the book, has been written, so as to elucidate certain ancient family secrets, which hereafter, when introduced into this history, might be found only out of place and inconvenient. The first account of the Smartvilles which comes to hand is about a century ago ; al though some gossiping ladies, acquainted with the last of the Smartvilles, contend that there are some records still left (but where they cannot tell you), which distinctly relate how one Baron Smartville gained great honours in the Holy Wars, and a Sir John Smartville got hung in Henry the Eighth's reign for disputing his supremacy.

Be that as it may, we have never come across any such prerogative antiquity, and dare say never shall; albeit we are contented with knowing that one of the Smartvilles, in George the First's time, made great advancement in Science, Astronomy, and The rolling on of years, and the changes incidental thereto, which have wrapt many events in obscurity and oblivion, and kept from our knowledge numberless transactions of the times past and gone, have completely shrouded the early history of the Smart villes in mystery and gloom. We cannot tell in what reign they sprung up in, — nor who, or what was the first Smartville. His tory, the only light of the past, affords us no information, — nor is there any clue in the least as to the early doings, deeds, and t .. B ADVENTURE Political Economy, — though by some accihe contemplated his own position in society' dent his name never came under the know ledge of Sinolkt nor of any other historian, — and another Smartville was Lord as late as the third George's time, whose son, Sir Richard Smartville, was very wealthy, intriguing, and a glutton, and v-ho bequeathed to his heir, Jonas Smartville, Esq., the grandfather of the hero of the fol lowing pages, all his fortune — an immense sum, but which at last fell to the ground, through the improvidence of a portion of the present generation, and reduced the last of the SmaYtvilles to beggary. the vainer he grew.

Condescension, affable ness, meekness, or courtesy, were virtues which he entirely disowned. They were un known to him. He was not the man to * to beud to his equals or his supe riors. Not he. It would have been a deep stain of degradation upon his escutcheon — so he thought. It was enough to receive and see it enacted by others, without practising it himself. Pride with him was the ruling passion — it was ever by him, ever exercising its commanding influence over other people. To those below him his pomposity was ter rible, to his equals he was harsh and un natural, to his betters ! really we hardly know what to say about that, for the truth is, he never acknowledged any one better than himself, and, therefore, it is supposed, claimed acquaintance with those above him with the greatest ease and nonchalance possible.

It brought him numerous friends though, did this pride of his — for the dis play, the ostentation and the pomp which he made, the dashing equipage he kept, the splendid dinners and the gay and brilliant banquets he gave, togetherwith the best wines any one could boast of for miles around, found many who were willing to accept of invitations where no expense was spared to render the feast luxurious and good. Jonas Smartville, the before-mentioned grandfather of Theodore Smartville, came to his fortune when very young, and having no encumbrance — that is to say, no wife, — and, being a man of pleasure and fashion, lived the life of a rake ; a boon companion of several men of fortune, and the Adonis of almost every woman in the fashionable circle, till he was an old bachelor, when, getting tired of the turf, the gaming-table, the nights of revelry and the dissipation of his younger days, he married a young wife, she in return presenting him, in due course of time, with a fine healthy son, who rapidly promised great things.

The new father was delighted— was in ecstacy when he was apprised of the birth of a son, as, without an heir, the dismal prospect of his line becoming extinct, and all honour, pedigree, &c, lost for ever, had haunted and troubled his mind for a long time. The olive branch just mentioned was succeeded by a brother, and then by a sister, the latter of whom speedily quitted this world, and was in a few months followed by her father ; a consump tion, the effects of inebriety and profligacy, having destroyed and struck down a man of vigour and strength before his time. It was vanity which caused all this to be done, and almost metamorphosed him into another Timon. More than one anecdote has been related about his pride, and it is said he lost an heiress because he would not humble himself to that homage and attention a lady naturally expects from her lover.

On the other hand his brother, having a very limited income to live on, — as is often the case with younger brothers, as we, alas ! but too well know — became from a very early age, as soon as his eyes opened to the prospects before him, as greedy of gold as his brother was of magnificence. En dowed with a quiet nature, and of not a very communicative turn, from his infancy he seemed to work in secret ; and while his brother revelled in pleasure and shone with great doings, ablazing star in ihebeau monde, The sons of Jonas Smartville grew up healthy and strong, but as they wended to wards maturity a vast difference was dis covered between the two. The eldest, who inherited the greatest portion of his father's property, when he found himself at the head of all, and owner of several estates, waxed warm and insolent with power.

The more OF THEODORE SMARTVILLE 3 he became a plain man, and gradually seemed j suited her mind about it, readily gave her to fall out with the world and become a mis anthrope. Suddenly — while the elder brother was rising higher in the estimation of the aristocracy, and becoming the theme of every tongue — the younger brother quitted the city in which he had been born, and went to London, where his fortune seemed destined only to be made. For years he was not heard of, was hardly missed (younger brothers seldom are) ; and when a letter directed to Joseph Smartville, Esq., of Smartville Hall, Winchester, was opened and perused, it disclosed the information that the writer was now a rich man, but being very concise (all gold-seeking men are so, both in their manners and their letters), it disclosed nothing further than that the younger brother was established somewhere in London, and having great in terest in everything, especially Money Lent ! consent, being of that indifferent and careless temperament which heedsbut litle thevarious circumstances life places one in.

But if Marian, for such was her pretty name, had not any particular love more than that of quiet and obedient affection for her husband, it was centered and fully developed upon a young infant, their first child. The mother's attachment towards it grewstronger every day, in fact it seemed to closer bind husband and wife, and for some time they lived together contented and cheerful enough. Smartville, too, still kept up his credit. He left off gambling for a time, and as he was now in property he again displayed his pride, so that all his evil habits of gaiety and ostentation having mastered every better feeling about him, he unhesitatingly run through his wife's fortune, and was not long before he again incurred heavy debts. His old propensity of gambling appeared the only means of keeping up his reputation ; but all run wrong this time — loss after loss, and debt after debt, succeeded each other pretty quickly.

Still he went on — stake after stake went to the ground — his estates were mortgaged — his child's patrimony squandered — and hourly the tempest grew blacker, threatening shortly to overwhelm him altogether. Still he went on, heedless of the wreck he made — the anxiety ot his mind, the breaking of his constitution, and the unhappiness of his wife. Still he went on — gambling, plunging into more misery, seeking to retrieve a lost character by growing more skilled in trickery, deception, and villany, and haunting places of the vilest description. But this game could not go on for ever. At last all came to a stand still, and a prison seemed the only refuge for a broken constitution, a turbulent mind, and a maddening brain. This was the only letter received for years, but more than that the two brothers had never met since they first parted.

People wondered and marvelled why they should have separated, but as they never came to the groundwork it made but little matter-o' fact in the history of the two brothers. During his absence an entire change took place with the elder brother. Pride had at last brought his greatness down. His for tune was now running low. He took to gambling — lost and won — and lost — and lost — and lost — got greatly in debt, and practised a griping economy when by him self, for the purpose of keeping up his fame and name ; but it was all in vain, his debts were immense and he was on the point of insolvency, when fortune, or rather chance, threw in his way a yovng lady of moderate accomplishments, agreeable manners, and extremely good-looking, though not strictly handsome, who was possessed of a good for tune — enough to clear Smartville from his present embarrassments and leave a pretty surplus to boot.

Duringthis wretched state of Smartville a little girl had been born, which addition to the family, and the low circumstances they were in, caused his unfortunate Wife a great deal of misery, and many were the tears she shed when unobserved and alone. For money, then, and not for love did Smartville woo, win, and marry her ; while the young lady, who had thought but little of marriage during her life, and never yet con- B It was not for the lost wealth she grieved, | the winter, which threatened to be long aud severe ; for the earth was covered with snow, and the wind blew and whistled in great anger. The snow was falling down in large flakes at the time we date the commence ment of our tale, burying everything it fell upon. Now it beat with great force against some traveller, and blinded for a moment bis eyes ; anon it went rushing furiously on, according to the impulses of the wind, chok ing and filling up every nook and corner it touched, and then it would for a short time, as though exhausted with its late exertion, cease entirely, and then, again, renew its vigour and its force, by growing larger, denser, and quicker in its fall.

Whew ! how it eddies round and round, making the eyes dizzy to watch its glittering roturnal mo tion. It heeds nothing, but seems to de light in being a subject of annoyance to all who have to come through it. for riches and high station were things con sidered by her as the mere outward trap pings of comfort, and of little avail if peace of mind was gone; but Poverty, that grim friend of Despair, was the evil that now stared her in the face. She had never before dreamed of encountering such a thing — why should she, dear Marian, when she had been amply provided for by those who loved and cherished her — and now that it was begin ning seriously to affect her she felt she could scarcely bear up against her burden. Her spirits drooped, till an abject hopeless ness came over her. Smartville, too, his rugged hard nature could not stand up against it.

He became softened. Pity for his wife, and remorse for his past and present vile conduct, touched his heart. He awoke to a sense of his bad doings, bestirred himself afresh, compounded with his credi tors, gave up all that remained, forsook his friends of fashion, gradually drew away and hid himself from the world, retiring to a small cottage not far from his late mansion, where he endeavoured to atone for his past pride, by setting forth a humble spirit, and turning his thoughts into a new channel. Not long after this, however, did he live, and though he had become submissive and penitent, and tried to regain a portion of money sufficient for his wife and family to live on at his decease, yet he died leaving them scarcely a farthing in the world. It was extremely cold too, more so than perhaps had been experienced for many winters before, and tended to make the scene without a dismal one, especially it being the country, where there was not so much life and bustle as in London to carry off the un pleasantness of bad weather.

Among the few people out on business, or returning home from work, was a young man, who, as he wended his way through the principal street of the city, seemed to be lite rally one mass of snow. An artizan by his dress, — he appeared to have come a long way, and was in vain attempting to combat with the element, and push onward. He was walking fast ; but it was, nevertheless, evident by his gait he was now getting tired. Such is the brief outline of a portion of the ancestry of our hero — such the slight sketch of his father ; while the circumstances attending the fall of the Smartville last mentioned, and the hardships of Theo dore Smartville, his mother and sister, through the pride of the father, have sug gested the following pages. At last, as he approached a large and well-built house, situate on the road-side just out of the city, he stopped, and, though wet to the skin, did r.ot move, but _tood gazing on.

There must have been something very at tractive in the house opposite to which the young man had taken his station, for he remained quite still, viewing it, as a strangc-r might have imagined, with the greatest com posure ; but, nevertheless, his mind was at

Chapter II

Introduces Theodore Smartville and his Faun!// lo the Header, ana of our hero's determination to go to London. The day was fast declining, and the city of Winchester presented a cheerless picture of OP THEODORE SMARTVILLE 5 work, and his head busy with troublesome I couple of dogs barking furiously — and then thoughts ; for more than one deep sigh escaped from his lips. rung the bell violently. The door was opened by a very large and pompous foot man ; the carriage door, too, flew open, and from it issued, first a middle-aged, fat, and haughty-looking woman, and then a young female, as different from her mama, in size, look, and manner, as the almost ghostly appearance, white dress, and slim figure of the young man was to the blazing vest, breeches, and face of the corpulent servant who ushered the two ladies into the hall and mansion of Sir Christopher Borngood, Bart, Banker, &c. While the stranger has thus paused, we will take the opportunity of describing more minutely his appearance.

He was a tall and well-built young man, apparently about twenty years of age ; and, though slim, seemed to be possessed of a good share of strength. An intelligent and expressive face, pleasing features, dark eyes, a lofty and expansive forehead, white and smooth as marble, were the outward signs of his beauty ; but it was not his physiognomy, taken at a glance, which found an attraction with the stranger ; for over it were cast deep shades of melancholy, which sometimes gave him the appearance of a cold and proud man, though poor ; but it was his manners, so quiet and unassuming, easy and gentle, that won the regard of people; and you need not have been in his company long, notwithstanding the above-mentioned traits, before you would have discovered in the sparkling and keen eye — the true index of the mind — that which betokened a good nature, a kind, benevolent disposition, and a noble frankness of character.

The door having been shut, and the carriage driven to the stables, the stranger left the spot he bad lately occupied, and pro ceeded homewards. With his eyes bent to the ground, pensively and slowly he walked along, seemingly buried in his own thoughts ; and so unconsciously did he move over the ground, that it was not till his ears were greeted with the familiar bark of a dog, who came to caress him, that he was able to arouse himself from the reverie he had fallen into. " Lie down, Rose," said he, " I am in no mood for play to-night Your over-fond ness and attachment but irritates and annoys me." With this he gently tapped him on the head in a rebuking but yet. soothing manner. "Ah! my poor dog," he added, " you love your old master still, though he grows poorer every day ; yes, and methinks you will miss him sadly by and bye when he leaves you."

Though in humble circumstances, the young man carried with him a gentlemanly air. A certain ease about his person and carriage, and a gracefulness of deportment, which, if stripped of their rusticity, would have been highly polished, betokened that he had sprung from something beyond the common class ; and though now apparently a mere labouring man, had been bred in a better school than the one he now prac tised in. As he raised his eyes from the dog, for it was before his cottage door that he now stood, a young and delicate-looking female met his view. He remained for some time motionless, viewing the house intently; and then, just as he was about to leave, having first surveyed every window, as though he was trying to catch a glimpse of some one he did not see, a carriage drove to the door, and going a pace or two back, so that he might recon noitre without being observed, he looked wistfully on.

The footman alighted, gave a tremendous double knock— one that shook the country from its stillness, and set a " Ob, my brother !" she exclaimed, " how glad I am to see you. But how late you are ; and how cold and wet, too ! Make haste in ; we have a blazing fire, and There, now, leave Rose for once," she added , as she gently laid hold of her brother's arm, who still regarded the dog attentively, yet abstractedly, " and come in from this in clement weather. Lie down, sir — down — down." With this the young female, aster holding and waving her hand over the dog's head and face, who continued to jump, and fawn, and lick his master, led her brother into the cottage, which, though a few months ago he had declared he would not change for a palace, yet now he looked upon it all its beauty seemed lost to him. quite an air of pleasure upon everything, the way she did it.

A handsome girl was Grace, too. A slight frame, small features, bright eyes, and auburn hair, a face of exquisite loveliness, depicting at once joy, fondness, health, and happiness, were tokens that formed no mean iota in beauty's page, and made Theodore fond of his youthful sister, whose age was about seventeen. But her polished, yet simple maidenly manner, her engaging air, and cheerful disposition, her clear musical voice, and a constant flow of spirits and vivacity, except when unpleasant circum stances darkened her bright nature, were the charms that wrought a multiplicity of feelings in the beholder. She was so kind, too, so charitable, and so sensitive to the wrongs and misery of others, that she was beloved by every one around, and the pride of all who knew her. Though Grace was light of heart and merry, she had her cares.

Her watchful eyes were ever on her mother and brother ; she was the soother of her parent's vexations, and the comforter of her brother, when the day's business had wor ried and put him out of temper. Ever on the alert, she was ready to assist and do all in her power to make those around her cheerful and comfortable, when anything went wrong ; and, with virtues like these, it is no wonder she was tenderly loved both by mother and brother. It was a humble dwelling, and contained but little furniture, yet what was in it seemed neat and well-arranged. All air of cleanli ness and simplicity was visible .in every article; but an attempt at refinement had been made, notwithstanding the very limited means to do so. A few ornaments, mostly the workmanship of the young female, adorned the mantel-shelf; while a piece of smart-looking, but old drapery, which might once have belonged to a gentleman's drawing-room, now hung up against the window as a substitute ser a blind.

An old shawl, too, which most likely had been a handsome one in its best days, was thrown over a painted table near the window, on which generally rested a tea tray and caddy. A few pictures, one or two in frames, and the rest without, hung up in different parts of the room, and a piece of plain drugget covered the floor. A few dilapidated rose wood chairs, and a smart, round mahogany table, completed the contents of the apart ment. A middle-aged female was seated by the fire when the brother and sister entered the room. It was the darling Grace who made the home comfortable — it was Grace who super intended everything, and enacted the part of housekeeper with the gravity, economy, and knowledge of a matron. " Well, Theodore," she said, in a kind animated tone, "you have returned, but bless me how you are covered with snow.

I have been thinking of you all day long ; but, clear boy, I am keeping you ; make haste and change your clothes, else you will take cold." " Grace, my dear," she added, turning to her daughter, " does the kettle boil yet ?" Having said this much in favour of Grace, we will proceed with their conversation. " I do not know what is the matter with Theodore," said Grace, after a silence of some few moments, " but he seems ex tremely dull this evening ; I fear he is not well." " Yes, mother," replied Grace, while she busied herself in preparing the tea. " Nay," replied her mother, who was in unusual good spirits, "I do not think he is Ul, nor did I notice him being particularly melancholy." Grace shook her head. '• Well, if anything is the matter, it is the All was soon ready, for Grace was very handy, and you would have been quite de lighted at the dexterous manner in which she managed these domestic duties.

It put effects of this bitter day, and the long walk he has had. Six miles to go out to work, and the same to return, is very fatiguing." At length Mrs. Smartville, who now felt convinced that something ailed him, spoke. " Why, Theodore, how quiet you are to night ! You have scarcely spoken to us yet. It is Christmas Eve, — you have not forgot that, I suppose. Oh, no ! I am sure you have not, nor to-morrow either. We mean to be very merry to-morrow. It is a good day ; and, putting aside all trou bles, we will enjoy ourselves for once ; for, though poor, we have contrived to obtain a comfortable dinner for to-morrow. But how, or in what way, Grace will inform you by-and-bye. What do you say to this, The odore ?" " True," answered her daughter ; " but you know, mother, the weather was just as bad, if not worse, all last week, and he then had to go further, a mile or so, yet he came home cheerful enough; in fact, he seemed the only one full of life, whereas this even ing he scarcely said a word, and completely forgot that smile which he never failed be fore to greet us with.

No, mother, I am sure there is some cause for his dullness." " Well, well," rejoined Mrs. Smartwell, for such was the lady's name, "if so, I suppose it will not last long. Theodore is not the lad to pine. He don't take troubles to heart as some people do, thank heaven for that." "That it is very kind of you, dearr_?other, and also of you, dear sister. It is more than I anticipated, or dared even to look forward for; and I hope to be able to-morrow fully to appreciate all this kindness. However, you must let me into the secret, mother, as to who was the kind giver of the same." At this moment Theodore made his appearance, and taking his customary seat by the fire, commenced the sweetest meal of the day. Sweet, because they were all as sembled together, and time for awhile was their own. Sweet, because the toil of the day was over, and rest and quietness had come to their relief.

Oh, a happy meal is that, though it be but a humble one, where a family divided in the day meet together at night, welcoming each other with a smile, and recounting the incidents that have occurred during their temporary separation. United and endeared to one another, they forget for awhile the sorrows, the troubles, and the vexations of the day, and sweet, though homely, is the meal that they thus contentedly partake of. " I said Grace should tell you," answered Mrs. Smartville. " But it don't matter which of us. However, try and guess first." " I am afraid I shall not be able to do that," replied Theodore, " unless it be Farmer Giles." " Farmer Giles !" echoed Mrs. Smart ville, indignantly. " What did Farmer Giles ever give away, I should like to know . Indeed the man isn't in the least charitably inclined, unless it be to his own family, at his own dinner-table.

No, my son. The bestower of the gift was the daughter of that haughty man, Sir Christopher Borngood. Ah ! she is a good young lady — very differ ent from her father and brother. Not elated with such pride as most wealthy girls are : on the contrary, she is a most bene volent and good-natured young lady. So kind, too — so commiserating that it really does the heart good to record the virtues of Miss Borngood. And we had such a long chat together, during which she seemed to take quite a liking to Grace — (it is natural, for you know she has no sister). And after conversing with us both for some time, she made an inquiry after you, Theodore. Yes; After a few usual and common-place questions and remarks on the part of Theo dore, touching his brother and sister, he re lapsed into a silent mood, and during tea he spoke very litle.

At times he tried to smile and be communicative ; but all attempts to be gay and cheerful were unsuccessful. In vain he attempted to rouse himself from the stupor into which he had fallen. In vain he attempted to speak. His tongue seemed to refuse its office ; and he sat brooding over the fire, apparently forgetful of any one indeed, she did." being present. THE LIFE AND ADVENTURE At the mention of her name, and of her I only place where I have any chance of doing inquiries after him, a slight blush mounted our hero's cheeks ; but the gratified smile was almost immediately usurped by a stern ness of manner which surprised both mother and sister, as they gazed upon him. good for nryself and you." "But, dear brother," urged Grace, " why choose London, — why not seek for employment closer by.