Yonder lie danger, shame, and punishment

  Most welcome danger then—Nay, let me say,

  Though spoke¹ with swelling² heart—welcome e'en shame

  And welcome punishment—for, call me guilty,

  I do but pay the tax that's due to justice;

  And call me guiltless, then that punishment

  Is shame to those alone who do inflict⁴ it,

                              The Tribunal.

We left Lord Glenvarloch, to whose fortunes our story chiefly attaches itself, gliding⁶ swiftly down the Thames. He was not, as the reader may have observed, very affable in his disposition⁷, or apt to enter into conversation with those into whose company he was casually⁸ thrown. This was, indeed, an error in his conduct, arising less from pride, though of that feeling we do not pretend to exculpate⁹ him, than from a sort of bashful reluctance¹¹ to mix in the conversation of those with whom he was not familiar. It is a fault only to be cured by experience and knowledge of the world, which soon teaches every sensible and acute person the important lesson, that amusement, and, what is of more consequence, that information and increase of knowledge, are to be derived¹² from the conversation of every individual whatever, with whom he is thrown into a natural train of communication. For ourselves, we can assure the reader—and perhaps if we have ever been able to afford him amusement, it is owing in a great degree to this cause—that we never found ourselves in company with the stupidest of all possible companions in a post-chaise, or with the most

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