Prestwood Papers. By Francis Jacox. VII.-About Monsieur Jourdain ; as Regards (1) His Mercantile Pedigree; (2) His Unconscious Facility A Legend of Saint Brita. By William Jones Whose Wife was She? From the French. By Mrs. Alfred M. Münster. 584 BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY. MYDDLETON POMFRET. A NOVEL. BY WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH. Book the Fifth. IV. THE ARRIVAL AT BELFIELD. BELFIELD-whither we now propose to repair-is pleasantly situated on the slope of a hill, about a couple of miles to the north of Bury, on the road to Haslingden. It is a large white mansion, of formal but imposing appearance, and overlooks a country agreeably diversified with hill and valley, with brown bleak moors, and a bolder and higher range of hills in the distance. The view from the terrace, comprehending the adjacent town of Bury, with Bolton on the one hand, and Rochdale on the other, would be very striking, but for the evidences afforded to the beholder that he is in the midst of a populous manufacturing district. Cotton-mills-the ugliest structures ever devised by man-offend the gaze on all sides, and darken the air with the smoke from their tall chimneys. The fields are converted into bleaching-grounds, and the once clear rivulets, coursing through the once charming valleys, are polluted by dye-works, and empty themselves into the Irwell, which flows past the grounds of Belfield on its way to Manchester. Our worthy friend Mr. Shelmerdine, we are quite aware, differs from us most materially in regard to the charm of the prospect commanded by his residence. In his eyes the picture has no blemish. He does not dislike cotton factories-not he!-neither does he object to print-works, nor to bleach-works. The dingy colour of the Irwell does not offend him, and he rather likes to look upon the cloud of smoke hanging like a pall over distant Manchester. His earliest associations being connected with this district, it still retains a strong hold upon his affections. Nothing to his mind can be more beautiful than the neighbourhood of Bury, and he would not change his large formal mansion, with its uniform ranges of windows, its stately Ionic columns, its rustic stone basement, and broad double flight of steps, leading to the All rights reserved. VOL. LXII. B principal entrance, for the oldest and most picturesquely situated hall in Cheshire. From the stately terrace of Belfield our worthy friend can distinguish a miserable row of cottages-such cottages as are only to be seen in a manufacturing district. In one of the poorest of those hovels dwelt his mother-he never knew a father's care-and she has long since been released from toil and misery. John's eye often wanders in the direction of that lowly hut, and he thinks of his early struggles and aspirations. His ambition was to become a millowner, and by prudence and indomitable perseverance he has realised the dream. While making his way to wealth, Mr. Shelmerdine often said that when he had sufficient means he would build the handsomest mansion in the neighbourhood of Bury. He kept his word, and built Belfield, which he flatters himself is the handsomest and best-situated house in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Shelmerdine, whose associations are different from those of her husband, and who likes old mansions and well-timbered parks, and abominates factories and dye-works, would fain have had him purchase a place in Cheshire. But John would not listen to the suggestion. Having built Belfield, he resolved to stay there. We must not find fault with Belfield, or we shall forfeit our friend's good opinion; but we confess that, like Mrs. Shelmerdine, we should prefer a place in Cheshire. However, that is mere matter of taste. Beyond dispute, Belfield is a very fine mansion, and possesses a vast number of spacious apartments. The magnificent entrance-hall is adorned with busts, statues, and groups of marble, executed by modern Italian sculptors. The diningroom, which will accommodate no end of guests, has a coved ceiling, supported at one end by pillars, and its walls are covered by the best specimens of modern art. Then there is a vast saloon, gorgeously fitted up in the style of Louis XV. Another, and somewhat smaller morning-room, has a conservatory attached to it. Besides these, there are several other apartments on the same floor-namely, a library, a billiard-room, and a smokingroom. A splendid staircase conducts from the entrance-hall to the upper story. Here many of the rooms are spacious, and all lofty and well furnished. Owing to the number of windows, and the width of the passages, the house has a remarkably light and cheerful air. The grounds of Belfield, though not very extensive, are nicely laid out. The shrubberies, which of course were planted by our friend, are getting on tolerably well, but unquestionably the place looks too new. It wants timber; and something, perhaps, besides timber. The tallest trees among the plantations are poplars, and these add to the formal character of the edifice. A large lawn, smooth and soft as velvet, is spread out in front of the mansion, and in summer the parterres and borders are embellished by the choicest flowers. There is also an excellent walled-in garden, with hothouses and greenhouses. The slopes on the farther side of the hill are skirted by the Irwell, which bounds our friend's property in this quarter, but the river, owing to its Stygian hue, does not enhance the beauty of the scene. About half-past nine, on a fine frosty day towards the end of November, Mr. and Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine left the Euston station for Bury. The young couple were accompanied by two French servants, whom they had brought with them from Paris-namely, Monsieur Emile Pochet, a very fine gentleman, who condescended to serve Bootle in the capacity of valet, and Mam'selle Léontine Latrompette, Mrs. Bootle's pretty and extremely coquettish femme de chambre. Mam'selle Léontine, a lively brunette, whose chief personal attractions consisted in a pair of remarkably fine black eyes, capable of any expression, and two ranges of small pearly teeth, which she took frequent occasion to display, and Monsieur Emile, whose jet black hair was cropped close to the head, and whose sallow cheeks were so carefully shaven that they looked perfectly blue-these two personages, we say, who knew nothing more of England than had come under their observation between Dover and London, were tolerably well pleased with the country through which they travelled till they reached Stockport. Then the forest of tall chimneys that burst upon them as they crossed the viaduct that carries the railway over the town, the smokebegrimed buildings and the reeky atmosphere, filled them with intense disgust. "Mon Dieu! what a frightful town!" exclaimed Léontine. "A thousand times worse than Lille." Monsieur Emile never had had the misfortune to see Lille, but he felt sure it could not possibly be so bad as Stockport. Manchester, which seemed almost to begin when they got out of Stockport, heightened their disgust, and they gazed almost with horror at the huge, black, many-windowed piles that rose before them on all sides. "What a city! what buildings! what a populace!" exclaimed Emile, piteously. "Till now, I had no idea what perfidious Albion was like. Execrable country! We must go back to Paris, mam'selle. I cannot exist in an infernal region like this." Léontine quite concurred with him in opinion, and they continued to abuse everything they beheld till they arrived at Bury, when the necessity of attending to their master and mistress turned their thoughts in another direction. Mrs. Bootle had shared the sentiments of her suivante. Stockport and Manchester, as seen through the windows of the coupé occupied by herself and darling Bootle, had positively appalled her. Never having been in this part of the country before, she had but a very imperfect notion of what a large manufacturing town is like. Nothing so ugly as those clusters of factories, with the surrounding dingy habitations, had entered into her ideas. With a sickening heart she turned to her husband, and said, "I hope Bury is not like this, dearest boy." "Ten times worse," replied Bootle, who was tranquilly enjoying a cigar. "At Bury there are twice as many cotton-mills, five times as many chimneys, and the air is so full of smoke that you can't swallow it." "I can't swallow your description, dear boy," she rejoined. "But if it really is worse than this, I shall soon bid adieu to Belfield." "Well, you'll see what it's like presently." The aspect of the country improved as they went on, and by the time they reached their destination Mrs. Bootle had quite recovered her spirits. Attired in a most becoming toilette de voyage, of which a blue velvet mantle trimmed with sable formed the most conspicuous feature, and wearing the prettiest little chapeau ronde that ever came from the Rue Vivienne, she looked charming in the eyes of papa Shelmerdine, who was waiting her arrival on the platform. Kissing her very heartily as he helped her out, he at once conducted her to a well-appointed barouche which was drawn up close by, and while doing so attempted some apologies for the absence of his wife. Mrs. Bootle, however, quickly relieved his embarrassment by saying that she didn't in the least expect to see her. Having bestowed his daughter-in-law safely in the barouche, John then returned to Bootle, who, with the aid of his own valet and his father's footman, Broadbent, was getting sundry cloaks, wraps, and other articles out of the coupé. Mam'selle Léontine was standing by, and perceiving that she could be of little use, John good naturedly took her to the barouche, and placed her opposite her mistress. A discussion next took place between father and son in regard to the enormous quantity of boxes which Mrs. Bootle had brought from town; the result being that Broadbent, "a very intelligent chap," according to John, was left in charge of a van-load of milliners' boxes and trunks. This important matter settled, Mr. Shelmerdine and Bootle got into the barouche, the old gentleman seating himself beside his pretty daughter-in-law, of whom he felt not a little proud, and Bootle taking the only vacant place, which of course was next to Léontine, while the gentleman-like Emile mounted to the seat erstwhile occupied by Broadbent. In this manner they drove off, exciting the admiration of a number of persons on the platform, who had lingered to witness their departure. Whether it was that she was gratified by her reception, or |