One evening quite a circle of friends collected at Mr. Claremont's, among whom were both Montague and Gordon. Gordon secured a seat between Alice and Margarette, while Montague stood apart from them, listening to the general conversation, but now and then casting a glance at the trio, in which he took so much interest. The conversation at length fell on reading. Some expressed a preference for one class of reading, some for another; but a large majority of the company decided that biography was the most instructive, interesting, and entertaining. This resulted in a discussion of whose biography was most valuable, when a gentleman remarked, "that the life of Lord Nelson was the most interesting work he had ever read." "Is it the book or the man, you so much admire?" asked one of the company. "O, both--but the man particularly. His heroism charmed me." "O do not name him," said Mr. Claremont. "I sicken with disgust when I read the fulsome panegyrics bestowed on him; and the numberless monuments raised to his memory in Great Britain." "He was a most noble creature!" said Gordon, in a rather low tone to Margarette. She cast on him a look of the most withering coldness, not unmingled with contempt, but made no reply, as she listened to learn what further her uncle would say. "No wonder they are proud of him, and raise monuments to his memory," said the gentleman who had first spoken of Nelson. "He secured more honor to the British navy than any hero from the reign of Elizabeth to the present time." "Talk not of his heroism, or the glory he acquired for Britain," said Mr. Claremont. "Devoured by ambition, did he fight for the good of his country? or to attain individual honor? Was he not continually whining and complaining that his services were not sufficiently requited? Depend on it, he would not have thought the crown of England an unreasonable reward! And in his character as a hero, lies all the honor he can claim. As a private man, he was despicable. Though he could conquer the enemies of his country, he resigned himself without resistance to the dominion of the basest passions, and was guilty of that, which in _unrefined_ New England, would have caused him to be hooted from society. Perfidious! hypocritical! base!--his character was stained with vices of the deepest dye,--and my astonishment can only be exceeded by my indignation, when in English publications I see him spoken of, and that by pious persons--Madam More, for one--as the "_immortal Nelson!_"--a being to be looked up to with admiration!" "You are warm, Mr. Claremont," observed one of his friends.