men to fit their profession, and that you ought not to curse them because that profession sometimes hangs on them ungracefully—nor will I curse Helstone, clerical Cossack as he was. Yet he was cursed, and by many of his own parishioners, as by others he was adored, which is the frequent fate of men who show partiality in friendship, and bitterness in enmity; who are equally attached to principles and adherent to prejudices.
Helstone and Moore, being both in excellent spirits, and united for the present in one cause, you would expect that, as they rode side by side, they would converse amicably. Oh, no! These two men, of hard bilious natures both, rarely came into contact but they chafed each other’s moods: their frequent bone of contention was the war. Helstone was a high Tory (there were Tories in those days) and Moore was a bitter Whig—a Whig, at least, as far as opposition to the war-party was concerned, that being the question which affected his own interest; and only on that question did he profess any British politics at all. He liked to infuriate Helstone by declaring his belief in the invincibility of Bonaparte; by taunting England and Europe with the impotence of their efforts to withstand him; and by coolly advancing the opinion that it was as well to yield to him soon as late, since he must in the end crush every antagonist, and reign supreme.
Helstone could not bear these sentiments: it was
