The Amateur Gentleman

("Now, Bev, that's what I call coming it a bit too strong!" sighed

the Viscount, shaking his head; "'anguish' is anguish however you

spell it! And, as for the others, let me tell you when a fellow has

a one-eyed being with bristles hanging about his place, he isn't

likely to be over particular as to his p's and q's, no, damme! Let's

see, where were we? ah! here it is,--'anguish' with a 'w'!") I quite agree with your remarks, viz. that a father's duties to

his son are sacred and holy-("This is where I counter, Bev, very neatly,--listen! He quite

agrees that,--") --a father's duties to his son are sacred and holy, and not to be

lightly esteemed, blinked, or set aside-("Aha! had him there, Bev,--inside his guard, eh?") I also appreciate, and heartily endorse your statement that it is

to his father that a son should naturally turn for help-("Had him again--a leveller that time, egad!") naturally turn for help, but, when the son is constantly turning,

then, surely, the father may occasionally turn too, like the worm.

The simile, though unpleasant, is yet strikingly apt.

("Hum! there he counters me and gets one back, I suppose, Bev? Oh,

I'll admit the old boy is as neat and quick with his pen as he used

to be with his hands. He ends like this:") I rejoice to hear that you are well in health, and pray that,

despite the forthcoming steeplechase, dangerous as I hear it is, you

may so continue. Upon this head I am naturally somewhat anxious,

since I possess only one son. And I further pray that, wilfully

reckless though he is, he may yet be spared to be worthy of the name

that will be his when I shall have risen beyond it.

BAMBOROUGH AND REVELSDEN.

The Viscount sighed, and folded up his father's letter rather

carefully.

"He's a deuced old Roman, of course," said he, "and yet--!" Here the

Viscount turned, and slipped the letter back under his pillow with a

hand grown suddenly gentle. "But there you are, Bev! Not a word about

money,--so downstairs Bristles must continue to sit until--"

"If," said Barnabas diffidently, "if you would allow me to lend--"

"No, no, Bev--though I swear it's uncommon good of you. But really I

couldn't allow it. Besides, Jerningham owes me something, I believe,

at least, if he doesn't he did, and it's all one anyway. I sent the

Imp over to him an hour ago; he'll let me have it, I know. Though I

thank you none the less, my dear fellow, on my soul I do! But--oh

deuce take me--you've nothing to drink! what will you take--?"