er to his friends and acquaintances, as is, you
know, the custom. Your company will be wished for there, Master Darsie,
by more than him, which I regret to think is impossible to have, as well
by your engagements, as that our cousin, Peter Fairford, comes from the
West on purpose, and we have no place to offer him but your chamber
in the wall. And, to be plain with you, after my use and wont, Master
Darsie, it may be as well that Alan and you do not meet till he is
hefted as it were to his new calling. You are a pleasant gentleman, and
full of daffing, which may well become you, as you have enough (as
I understand) to uphold your merry humour. If you regard the matter
wisely, you would perchance consider that a man of substance should have
a douce and staid demeanour; yet you are so far from growing grave and
considerate with the increase of your annual income, that the richer
you become, the merrier I think you grow. But this must be at your own
pleasure, so far as you are concerned. Alan, however (overpassing my
small savings), has the world to win; and louping and laughing, as you
and he were wont to do, would soon make the powder flee out of his wig,
and the pence out of his pocket. Nevertheless, I trust you will meet
when you return from your rambles; for there is a time, as the wise man
sayeth, for gathering, and a time for casting away; it is always the
part of a man of sense to take the gathering time first. I remain,
dear sir, your well-wishing friend; and obedient to command, ALEXANDER
FAIRFORD.

PS.--Alan's Thesis is upon the title DE PERICULO ET COMMODO REI
VENDITAE, and is a very pretty piece of Latinity.--Ross House, in our
neighbourhood, is nearly finished, and is thought to excel Duff House in
ornature.

LETTER X

DARSIE LATIMER TO ALAN FAIRFORD

The plot thickens, Alan. I have your letter, and also one from your
father. The last makes it impossible for me to comply with the kind
request which the former urges. No--I cannot be with you, Alan; and
that, for the best of all reasons--I cannot and ought not to counteract
your father's anxious wishes. I do not take it unkind of him that he
desires my absence. It is natural that he should wish for his son
what his son so well deserves--the advantage of a wiser and steadier
companion than I seem to him. And yet I am sure I have often laboured
hard enough to acquire that decency of demeanour which can no more be
suspected of breaking bounds, than an o