time in flinging stones at the birds of
heaven."

"I would scorn to fling a stone at a bird, father."

"You know what I mean, and all too well, and this attempt to evade
deserved reproof by feigned simplicity is quite in character with your
general behaviour. I have ever observed about you a want of frankness,
which has distressed me; you never speak of what you are about, your
hopes, or your projects, but cover yourself with mystery. I never knew
till the present moment that you were acquainted with Armenian."

"Because you never asked me, father; there's nothing to conceal in the
matter--I will tell you in a moment how I came to learn Armenian. A lady
whom I met at one of Mrs. ---'s parties took a fancy to me, and has done
me the honour to allow me to go and see her sometimes. She is the widow
of a rich clergyman, and on her husband's death came to this place to
live bringing her husband's library with her. I soon found my way to it,
and examined every book. Her husband must have been a learned man, for
amongst much Greek and Hebrew I found several volumes in Armenian, or
relating to the language."

"And why did you not tell me of this before?"

"Because you never questioned me; but, I repeat, there is nothing to
conceal in the matter. The lady took a fancy to me, and, being fond of
the arts, drew my portrait; she said the expression of my countenance put
her in mind of Alfieri's Saul."

"And do you still visit her?"

"No, she soon grew tired of me, and told people that she found me very
stupid; she gave me the Armenian books, however."

"Saul," said my father, musingly, "Saul, I am afraid she was only too
right there; he disobeyed the commands of his master, and brought down on
his head the vengeance of Heaven--he became a maniac, prophesied, and
flung weapons about him."

"He was, indeed, an awful character--I hope I shan't turn out like him."

"God forbid!" said my father, solemnly; "but in many respects you are
headstrong and disobedient like him. I placed you in a profession, and
besought you to make yourself master of it, by giving it your undivided
attention. This, however, you did not do, you know nothing of it, but
tell me that you are acquainted with Armenian; but what I dislike most is
your want of candour--you are my son, but I know little of your real
history; you may know fifty things for what I am aware; you may know how
to shoe a horse, for what I am aware."

"Not only to shoe a