ssing mine. What Sir Charles Lyndon
said was perfectly true. I made the acquaintance of Lady Lyndon with
ulterior views. 'Sir,' said I to him, when, after the scene described
and the jokes he made upon me, we met alone, 'let those laugh that win.
You were very pleasant upon me a few nights since, and on my intentions
regarding your lady. Well, if they ARE what you think they are,--if I DO
wish to step into your shoes, what then? I have no other intentions than
you had yourself. I'll be sworn to muster just as much regard for my
Lady Lyndon as you ever showed her; and if I win her and wear her when
you are dead and gone, corbleu, knight, do you think it will be the fear
of your ghost will deter me?'

Lyndon laughed as usual; but somewhat disconcertedly: indeed I had
clearly the best of him in the argument, and had just as much right to
hunt my fortune as he had.

But one day he said, 'If you marry such a woman as my Lady Lyndon, mark
my words, you will regret it. You will pine after the liberty you once
enjoyed. By George! Captain Barry,' he added, with a sigh, 'the thing
that I regret most in life--perhaps it is because I am old, blase, and
dying--is, that I never had a virtuous attachment.'

'Ha! ha! a milkmaid's daughter!' said I, laughing at the absurdity.

'Well, why not a milkmaid's daughter? My good fellow, I WAS in love
in youth, as most gentlemen are, with my tutor's daughter, Helena, a
bouncing girl; of course older than myself' (this made me remember my
own little love-passages with Nora Brady in the days of my early life),
'and do you know, sir, I heartily regret I didn't marry her? There's
nothing like having a virtuous drudge at home, sir; depend upon that. It
gives a zest to one's enjoyments in the world, take my word for it. No
man of sense need restrict himself, or deny himself a single amusement
for his wife's sake: on the contrary, if he select the animal properly,
he will choose such a one as shall be no bar to his pleasure, but a
comfort in his hours of annoyance. For instance, I have got the gout:
who tends me? A hired valet, who robs me whenever he has the power. My
wife never comes near me. What friend have I? None in the wide world.
Men of the world, as you and I are, don't make friends; and we are
fools for our pains. Get a friend, sir, and that friend a woman--a
good household drudge, who loves you. THAT is the most precious sort of
friendship; for the expense of it is all on the woman's sid