CHAPTER III.

_An Accession to the ancient Family of De Lancaster._

When the good man of the house perceived that the Salamanca doctor and his anecdotes only moved the ridicule of his friend Wilson, and even staggered the credulity of his son Philip, he pursued the subject no further, but wearied with the exertions and agitations of the day leaned back in his easy chair, and fell asleep. The parties, that were still awake, seemed mutually disposed to enjoy their meditations in silence, till upon the Castle clock’s striking eleven, Philip appositely remarked that it wanted but an hour to twelve--

And then, said Wilson, the first of March will have become the second of March, so that if your boy don’t make haste into the world, saint David’s day will be over, and he will not have the privilege of being born with a leek in his bonnet, and Martin Luther will keep the field of wonders to himself.

The story is very extraordinary, said Philip; but do you think it is true?

Do I think it is true, replied Wilson, that this gentleman, (pointing to a picture over the chimney) whom I take to be Icarus, came into the world, as the painter has described him, with his wings at full stretch? If you can give credit to the one, you may believe the other.

I think the safest way is to believe neither, Philip observed; but the gentleman you point at is not what you suppose: I believe he is some King: It is a family piece, and my father can explain it to you.

That I will do directly, cried the father, who had waked just in time to hear what his son had been saying. The personage you enquire about is not Icarus, but King Bladud of unfortunate memory, and the incident being historically connected with the records of my family, I have had the picture cleaned and repaired, and conspicuously hung, as you see, over the chimney piece of my library. He with the wings is, as I told you, King Bladud: He has miscarried in his experiment, and fallen to the ground from the topmost pinnacle of the Temple of Apollo. The venerable old man in the sacerdotal habit is the priest of Apollo, and the Philosopher in the saffron-coloured mantle is my ancestor, the ingenious contriver of the unlucky pinions. From him it is I date the privilege of attaching wings to my more ancient bearing of the Harp, as you see it displayed on the banners in the hall, and in sundry other parts of the castle, with the appropriate motto underwritten--DUM CŒLUM PETO, CANTUM EDO.

Thank you, my good sir, said the colonel: I am perfectly satisfied. For my own part I am contented to exhibit three cockle-shells on the handles of my spoons, but where I picked them up, and how I came by them, I know no more than the man in the moon, nor care.

At this instant Cecilia entered the room, and, running up to her father, joyfully announced the welcome entrance of our hero on this mortal stage in the character of a lovely boy, adding in the usual phrase that the mother was quite as well as could be expected.

I rejoice to hear it; I rejoice to hear it, exclaimed the grandfather. But, my dear Cecilia, are you quite certain that it is a boy?

Dear sir, replied Cecilia, you wont suppose the people about my sister can be deceived as to that.

Why no, said De Lancaster, upon better recollection I presume they cannot.

Cecilia directed a congratulatory look to her brother, and nodding to him, as she left the room, said, I give you joy, Philip, I give you joy with all my heart. Philip received it with many thanks, and entertained it with much composure.

Reach me the family bible, son, said De Lancaster, and looked at his watch, observing that it wanted half an hour of midnight. He thereupon entered the day and hour of his grandson’s birth in the recording leaf of the aforesaid holy book; observing, that he would postpone engrossing the event into his pedigree roll till his attorney could attend for that purpose--I confess, added he, it is more properly the office of my bard David Williams, but as he, poor man, is blind, I shall wink at his excusing himself from that branch of his duty.

I don’t see how you can well do less, said the colonel.

He will be christened John, continued the old gentleman, not attending to the colonel’s remark: the links in the chain of my genealogy have long been distinguished by the alternate names of John, Robert and Philip, and the brightest of the three has fallen to his turn. The Johns have been the heroes of the family: That was my father’s name; he was a gentleman of the most punctilious honour, but he was killed in a duel with a foreign officer, who happened to tread upon the train of my mother’s gown in a ball-room. The Philips universally, without the exception of my worthy son here present, have been lovers of their ease, and my great-grandfather was very generally distinguished by the style and title of Robert the Philologist: by manuscripts, which are now in my possession, it appears, that he had been at considerable pains and study in writing comments and annotations for a new and splendid edition of the _Incredibilia_ of Palæphatus: This he did not live to complete, but he is said more than once to have declared, that he would convince the world, that Palæphatus told many more truths than he himself was aware of.

Perhaps Palæphatus atoned for it, said the colonel, by telling many untruths, that he was aware of;--but is it not time to go to bed?