the lad has a total want of discrimination."

"I don't understand you," said my mother.

"You can understand nothing that would seem for a moment to impugn the
conduct of that child. I am not, however, so blind; want of
discrimination was the word, and it both sounds well, and is expressive.
It appears that, since he has been placed where he is, he has been guilty
of the grossest blunders; only the other day, Mr. S--- told me, as he was
engaged in close conversation with one of his principal clients, the boy
came to tell him that a person wanted particularly to speak with him;
and, on going out, he found a lamentable figure with one eye, who came to
ask for charity; whom, nevertheless, the lad had ushered into a private
room, and installed in an arm-chair, like a justice of the peace, instead
of telling him to go about his business--now what did that show, but a
total want of discrimination?"

"I wish we may never have anything worse to reproach him with," said my
mother.

"I don't know what worse we could reproach him with," said my father: "I
mean of course as far as his profession is concerned: discrimination is
the very key-stone; if he treated all people alike, he would soon become
a beggar himself; there are grades in society as well as in the army; and
according to those grades we should fashion our behaviour, else there
would instantly be an end of all order and discipline. I am afraid that
the child is too condescending to his inferiors, whilst to his superiors
he is apt to be unbending enough; I don't believe that would do in the
world; I am sure it would not in the army. He told me another anecdote
with respect to his behaviour, which shocked me more than the other had
done. It appears that his wife, who, by-the-bye, is a very fine woman,
and highly fashionable, gave him permission to ask the boy to tea one
evening, for she is herself rather partial to the lad; there had been a
great dinner party there that day, and there were a great many
fashionable people, so the boy went and behaved very well and modestly
for some time, and was rather noticed, till, unluckily, a very great
gentleman, an archdeacon I think, put some questions to him, and, finding
that he understood the languages, began talking to him about the
classics. What do you think? the boy had the impertinence to say that
the classics were much overvalued, and amongst other things that some
horrid fellow or other, some Welshman I think (than