ogs, a contented household. I
move in the centre of a perfect machine, and I am dissatisfied. I rise
early. I do not digest badly. What is wrong?

The calamity of my case is that I am in danger of betraying what is
wrong with me to others, without knowing it myself. Some woman will be
suspecting and tattling, because she has nothing else to do. Girls
have wonderfully shrewd eyes for a weakness in the sex which they are
instructed to look upon as superior. But I am on my guard.

The fact is manifest: I feel I have been living more or less uselessly.
It is a fat time. There are a certain set of men in every prosperous
country who, having wherewithal, and not being compelled to toil, become
subjected to the moral ideal. Most of them in the end sit down with our
sixth Henry or second Richard and philosophise on shepherds. To be no
better than a simple hind! Am I better? Prime bacon and an occasional
draft of shrewd beer content him, and they do not me. Yet I am sound,
and can sit through the night and be ready, and on the morrow I shall
stand for the county.

I made the announcement that I had thoughts of entering Parliament,
before I had half formed the determination, at my sister's lawn party
yesterday.

'Gilbert!' she cried, and raised her hands. A woman is hurt if you do
not confide to her your plans as soon as you can conceive them. She must
be present to assist at the birth, or your plans are unblessed plans.

I had been speaking aside in a casual manner to my friend Amble, whose
idea is that the Church is not represented with sufficient strength
in the Commons, and who at once, as I perceived, grasped the notion
of getting me to promote sundry measures connected with schools and
clerical stipends, for his eyes dilated; he said: 'Well, if you do, I
can put you up to several things,' and imparting the usual chorus of
yesses to his own mind, he continued absently: 'Pollingray might be made
strong on church rates. There is much to do. He has lived abroad and
requires schooling in these things. We want a man. Yes, yes, yes. It's a
good idea; a notion.'

My sister, however, was of another opinion. She did me the honour to
take me aside.

'Gilbert, were you serious just now?'

'Quite serious. Is it not my characteristic?'

'Not on these occasions. I saw the idea come suddenly upon you. You were
looking at Charles.'

'Continue: and at what was he looking?'

'He was looking at Alice Amble.'

'And the young lad