esting. Of all "serials,"--as the phrase is,--there is
none can be carried out to so many "numbers" as Egotism; and though the
snowball grows daily bigger, it rolls along even more easily.

I am not going to say that Lizzy Davis did this of "prepense;" I am
even candid enough to acknowledge to you that I am not quite sure I can
understand her. She had ways of acting and thinking peculiarly her
own. She was not always what the French call _consequente_, but she was
marvellously quick to discover she was astray, and "try back." She was
one of those people who have more difficulty in dealing with themselves
than with others. She had an instinctive appreciation of those whose
natures she came in contact with, joined to a strong desire to please;
and, lastly, there was scarcely a human temperament with which she could
not sympathize somewhere. She let Beecher talk on, because it pleased
_him_, and pleasing _him_ became, at last, a pleasure to herself. When
he recalled little traits of generosity, the kind things he had done
here, the good-natured acts he had done there, she led him on to feel
a more manly pride in himself than when recounting tales of his sharp
practices on the turf and his keen exploits in the ring.

Beecher saw this leaning on her part, and ascribed it all to her
"ignorance of the world," and firmly believed that when she saw more
of life she would think more highly of his intellect than even of his
heart. Poor fellow! they were beautifully balanced, and phrenology
for once would have its triumph in showing the mental and the moral
qualities in equilibrium. After the first week they were always
together, for Davis was continually on the road,--now to Neuwied, now
to Hoechst. The letters and telegrams that he despatched and received
were incredible in number; and when jested with on the amount of
his correspondence by Beecher, his only answer was, "It's all _your_
business, my boy,--the whole concerns _you_." Now, Annesley Beecher was
far too much of a philosopher to trouble his head about anything which
could be avoided, and to find somebody who devoted himself to his
interests, opened and read the dunning appeals of creditors, answered
their demands by "renewals," or cajoled them by promises, was one of the
highest luxuries he could imagine. Indeed, if Grog would only fight for
him and go to jail for him, he 'd have deemed his happiness complete.
"And who knows," thought he, "but it may come to that yet?