eges of the Ideal."

"My very words," said the Baronet; "wonderful, wonderful!" and he gazed
fondly at the Italian boy, who again resumed his menial employment.
Alas! the wings of the Ideal were folded. The Student had been
absorbed in the Boy.

But Sir Edward's boots were blacked, and he turned to depart. Placing
his hand upon the clustering tendrils that surrounded the classic nob
of the infant Italian, he said softly, like a strain of distant music:--

"Boy, you have done well. Love the Good. Protect the Innocent.
Provide for The Indigent. Respect the Philosopher. . . . Stay! Can
you tell we what IS The True, The Beautiful, The Innocent, The
Virtuous?"

"They are things that commence with a capital letter," said the Boy,
promptly.

"Enough! Respect everything that commences with a capital letter!
Respect ME!" and dropping a half-penny in the hand of the boy, he
departed.

The Boy gazed fixedly at the coin. A frightful and instantaneous
change overspread his features. His noble brow was corrugated with
baser lines of calculation. His black eye, serpent-like, glittered
with suppressed passion. Dropping upon his hands and feet, he crawled
to the curbstone and hissed after the retreating form of the Baronet,
the single word:--

"Bilk!"

BOOK II.

IN THE WORLD.

"Eleven years ago," said Sir Edward to himself, as his brougham slowly
rolled him toward the Committee Room; "just eleven years ago my natural
son disappeared mysteriously. I have no doubt in the world but that
this little bootblack is he. His mother died in Italy. He resembles
his mother very much. Perhaps I ought to provide for him. Shall I
disclose myself? No! no! Better he should taste the sweets of Labor.
Penury ennobles the mind and kindles the Love of the Beautiful. I will
act to him, not like a Father, not like a Guardian, not like a
Friend--but like a Philosopher!"

With these words, Sir Edward entered the Committee Room. His Secretary
approached him. "Sir Edward, there are fears of a division in the
House, and the Prime Minister has sent for you."

"I will be there," said Sir Edward, as he placed his hand on his chest
and uttered a hollow cough!

No one who heard the Baronet that night, in his sarcastic and withering
speech on the Drainage and Sewerage Bill, would have recognized the
lover of the Ideal and the Philosopher of the Beautiful. No one who
listened to his eloquence would have dreamed of the Spartan r