CHAPTER III.

-Rude I am in speech;

And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used
Their dearest action in the tented field.

And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to broils and battle.

OTHELLO.

THE next day beheld Louis employed at the task of penning a narrative of his past life, intended for a particular friend, that shared with him the dangers and fatigues of the Peninsular War.

"My best Friend,

"Nothing grieved me so much as your absence from town at a period when I returned to it after so

many years of exile from my native land. My short note, left for you at Long's hotel, will have sufficiently explained how urgently I wished to see you upon other matters than those of pleasure; but as the fates are immoveable we must bow to their decree. I believe I have already congratulated you upon your exchange from my regiment to that of the Guards. It is evident that an heiress is to be sooner found in London than any where else: you'll excuse this hint. I received a letter from Major Nixon yesterday. He is at present in command of the regiment until my arrival. He is well; but complains of an increasing rotundity, the effect of ease and quiet.

Young Stanley is on a visit at his father's therefore I have not seen him. There are many things I should like to speak of, but I fear I should make this letter tedious, therefore let me touch on the most serious points.

"The mutual services we rendered VOL. II.

each other during our campaigns abroad, naturally produced a reciprocal confidence. You have imparted your secrets to me, and I have opened my heart to you, though not so much as to confess the whole of my sorrows. It is now time you should know me in a closer view, and principally because I wish to destroy the mystery that all my brother officers used to assert, hung about my actions and demeanour. I however saw then no reason why I should expose the troubles which afflicted me, especially since I knew that a confession would

only injure me, and this you will easily imagine on perusing the following pages.

"When you first knew me it was under the name of Louis Sagittarius. I changed it within a year afterwards for that of Archer, and this fortunate circumstance has gained me the means of asserting my innocence and honor in a quarter where it would have been denied, had I ́reassumed the name which I inherited from

my parents.

You are acquainted by hearsay of the fame and reputation my father enjoys as an Astrologer?

To

that science do I stand indebted for some aspersions on my character whilst a boy, the malignity of which finally drove me from home. Home, did I call it ?it was none! I was reviled and scoffed at, nay offered a stipend, which, had I accepted, would have stamped me the guilty wretch they tried to prove me. This treatment, I think, was enough to make me resolve as I did. It was impossible for me to live at home and endure my wretched lot with equanimity. I loved my father-need I add, that I equally loved my brother and sister; but my indignant feelings would not permit me to brook the injustice of my daily usage. When therefore my father so cruelly determined to banish me from the house, I mentally vowed it should be the last time I would ever set my foot in it more. He offered me a settlement,

but I spurned it, because I should then have proved the being I was not. It seems he was in dread that I should offer him violence, which his astrological calculations enabled him to to foreseebut with what degree of truth, he can himself now tell.

"When I bade my last adieu, as I then thought, to my father's house, I made the best of my way to Falmouth, which was at no great distance from my home. It was my intention to offer my services to any person who would accept them, and so desirous was I to quit my native land, that I cared little for the disadvantages of climate or professional hardships which I should encounter in my new course of life. Pursuant to this intention, I went to the quay, and expressed my wish to several of the seafaring people, but disappointment repeatedly attended my request. I returned to an inn, wearied and exhausted; all my sanguine hopes fled, and the alterna