esler.

"Gipsies!" exclaimed the Duke.

"Poachers!" said Lord Chiltern. "But it isn't that we mind. We could
deal with that ourselves if the woods were properly managed. A head
of game and foxes can be reared together very well, if--"

"I don't care a straw for a head of game, Lord Chiltern. As far as
my own tastes go, I would wish that there was neither a pheasant
nor a partridge nor a hare on any property that I own. I think that
sheep and barn-door fowls do better for everybody in the long run,
and that men who cannot live without shooting should go beyond
thickly-populated regions to find it. And, indeed, for myself, I must
say the same about foxes. They do not interest me, and I fancy that
they will gradually be exterminated."

"God forbid!" exclaimed Lord Chiltern.

"But I do not find myself called upon to exterminate them myself,"
continued the Duke. "The number of men who amuse themselves by riding
after one fox is too great for me to wish to interfere with them. And
I know that my neighbours in the country conceive it to be my duty to
have foxes for them. I will oblige them, Lord Chiltern, as far as I
can without detriment to other duties."

"You leave it to me," said the Duchess to her neighbour, Lord
Chiltern. "I'll speak to Mr. Fothergill myself, and have it put
right." It unfortunately happened, however, that Lord Chiltern got
a letter the very next morning from old Doggett telling him that a
litter of young cubs had been destroyed that week in Trumpeton Wood.

Barrington Erle and Phineas went off to The Universe together, and
as they went the old terms of intimacy seemed to be re-established
between them. "Nobody can be so sorry as I am," said Barrington, "at
the manner in which things have gone. When I wrote to you, of course,
I thought it certain that, if we came in, you would come with us."

"Do not let that fret you."

"But it does fret me,--very much. There are so many slips that of
course no one can answer for anything."

"Of course not. I know who has been my friend."

"The joke of it is, that he himself is at present so utterly
friendless. The Duke will hardly speak to him. I know that as a fact.
And Gresham has begun to find something is wrong. We all hoped that
he would refuse to come in without a seat in the Cabinet;--but that
was too good to be true. They say he talks of resigning. I shall
believe it when I see it. He'd better not play any tricks, for if he
did resign, it would be