Volume 1.I. Lionel Carvel, of Carvel HallII. Some Memories of ChildhoodIII. Caught by the TideIV. Grafton would heal an Old BreachV. "If Ladies be but Young and Fair"VI. I first suffer for the CauseVII. Grafton has his Chance
Volume 2.VIII. Over the WallIX. Under False ColoursX. The Red in the Carvel BloodXI. A Festival and a PartingXII. News from a Far Country
Volume 3.XIII. Mr. Allen shows his HandXIV. The Volte CoupeXV. Of which the Rector has the WorstXVI. In which Some Things are made ClearXVII. South RiverXVIII. The Black Moll
Volume 4.XIX. A Man of DestinyXX. A Sad Home-comingXXI. The Gardener's CottageXXII. On the RoadXXIII. London TownXXIV. Castle YardXXV. The Rescue
Volume 5.XXVI. The Part Horatio playedXXVII. In which I am sore temptedXXVIII. Arlington StreetXXIX. I meet a very Great Young ManXXX. A ConspiracyXXXI. "Upstairs into the World"XXXII. Lady Tankerville's Drum-majorXXXIII. Drury Lane
Volume 6.XXXIV. His Grace makes AdvancesXXXV. In which my Lord Baltimore appearsXXXVI. A Glimpse of Mr. GarrickXXXVII. The SerpentineXXXVIII. In which I am roundly brought to taskXXXIX. Holland HouseXL. VauxhallXLI. The Wilderness
Volume 7.XLII. My Friends are provenXLIII. Annapolis once moreXLIV. Noblesse ObligeXLV. The House of MemoriesXLVI. Gordon's PrideXLVII. VisitorsXLVIII. Multum in ParvoXLIX. Liberty loses a Friend
Volume 8.L. Farewell to Gordon'sLI. How an Idle Prophecy came to passLII. How the Gardener's Son fought the SerapisLIII. In which I make Some DiscoveriesLIV. More Discoveries.LV. The Love of a Maid for a ManLVI. How Good came out of EvilLVII. I come to my Own again
FOREWORD
My sons and daughters have tried to persuade me to remodel these memoirsof my grandfather into a latter-day romance. But I have thought it wiserto leave them as he wrote them. Albeit they contain some details not ofinterest to the general public, to my notion it is such imperfections asthese which lend to them the reality they bear. Certain it is, whenreading them, I live his life over again.
Needless to say, Mr. Richard Carvel never intended them for publication.His first apology would be for his Scotch, and his only defence is thathe was not a Scotchman.
The lively capital which once reflected the wit and fashion of Europe hasfallen into decay. The silent streets no more echo with the rumble ofcoaches and gay chariots, and grass grows where busy merchants trod.Stately ball-rooms, where beauty once reigned, are cold and empty andmildewed, and halls, where laughter rang, are silent. Time was whenevery wide-throated chimney poured forth its cloud of smoke, when everyandiron held a generous log,—andirons which are now gone to decorate Mr.Centennial's home in New York or lie with a tag in the window of somecurio shop. The mantel, carved in delicate wreaths, is boarded up, andan unsightly stove mocks the gilded ceiling. Children romp in that roomwith the silver door-knobs, where my master and his lady were wont to sitat cards in silk and brocade, while liveried blacks entered on tiptoe.No marble Cupids or tall Dianas fill the niches in the staircase, and themahogany board, round which has been gathered many a famous toast andwit, is gone from