irtues which constitute the charm of connubial
life."

"Confound me but you must have got that out of a book, Woodward."

"Out of the best book, my lord--the book of life and observation."

"Why, curse it, you are talking philosophy, though."

"Only common sense, my lord."

His lordship, who was walking to and fro in the room, turned abruptly
round, looked keenly at him, and then, addressing Mrs. Lindsay, said,--

"Why, upon my soul, Mrs. Lindsay, we must try and do something with this
fellow; he'll be lost to the world if we don't. Come, I say, we must
make a public man of him."

"To become a public man is his own ambition, my lord," replied Mrs.
Lindsay; "and although I am his mother, and may feel prejudiced in his
favor, still I agree with your lordship that it is a pity to see such
abilities as his unemployed."

"Well, madam, we shall consider of it. What do you think, Woodward, if
we made a bailiff of you?"

At this moment Miss Riddle entered the room just in time to hear the
question.

"The very thing, my lord; and the first capture I should make would be
Miss Riddle, your fair niece here."

"Curse me, but the fellow's a cat," said the peer, laughing. "Throw
him as you will, he always falls upon his legs. What do you think, Tom?
Curse me but your suitor here talked philosophy in your absence."

"Only common sense, Miss Riddle," said Harry. "Philosophy, it is said,
excludes feeling; but that is not a charge which I ever heard brought
against common sense."

"I am an enemy neither to philosophy nor common sense," replied his
niece, "because I think neither of them incompatible with feeling; but I
certainly prefer common sense."

"There's luncheon announced," said the peer, rubbing his hands, "and
that's a devilish deal more comfortable than either of them. Come, Mrs.
Lindsay; Woodward, take Tom with you."

They then descended to the dining-room, where the conversation was
lively and amusing, the humorous old peer furnishing the greater
proportion of the mirth.

"Mrs. Lindsay," said he, as they were preparing to go, "I hope, after
all, that this clever son of yours is not a fortune-hunter."

"He need not be so, my lord," replied his mother, "and neither is he. He
himself will have a handsome property."

"Will have. I would rather you wouldn't speak in the future tense,
though. Woodward," he added, addressing that gentleman, "remember that I
told you that I sleep with one eye open."

"If you h