ot. So
far as one could make out, he was nearly as much interested in the state
of his own health, as one would be about that of any pleasant casual
acquaintance.

It must be confessed, that poor Harry and his like are by no means
strong-minded, or large-brained, or persevering men; they seldom or
never rise to eminence, and rarely have greatness thrust upon them. They
do not often volunteer to lead the vanguard of any great movement,
shouting out on the slightest provocation the war-cry of "life is
earnest;" for they are the natural subalterns of the world's mighty
battalia, and could hardly manoeuvre one of its companies, without
hopelessly entangling it, and exposing themselves: indeed, if they are
useful at all in their generation, it is in a singularly modest and
unobtrusive way. Yet there is an attraction about them, a power of
attachment, that the great and wise ones of the earth have appreciated
and envied, ere now. It is curious, too, to see what an apparent
contradiction to themselves the extremes of the class--those who
exaggerate _nonchalance_ into insensibility, and softness into
effeminacy--have shown, when brought face to face with imminent peril or
certain destruction. France held few more terrible _ferrailleurs_ than
the curled painted minions of her third Henry: the sun never looked down
on a more desperate duel than that in which Quelus, Schomberg, and
Maugiron did their _devoir_ manfully to the last. Nay, though he came
delicately to his doom, the King of Amalek met it, I fancy, gallantly
and gracefully enough, when once he read his sentence in the eyes of the
pitiless Seer, who ordained that he "should be hewn in pieces before the
Lord in Gilgal."

R. I. P.

There was silence for some minutes after the few words that opened this
story; and then Royston Keene spoke again.

"Hal, do you remember that miserable impostor in Paris being
enthusiastic about Dorade and its advantages, describing it as a sort of
happy hunting-ground, and so deciding us on choosing it in preference to
Nice?"

"Ah! he _did_ drivel a good deal. I think he had been drinking," the
other answered.

"No; I understand him now. He had been bored here into a sullen,
vicious misanthropy; and he wanted to take it out on the human race by
getting others in the same mess. It's just like that jealous old
Heathfield, who, when he is up to his girths in a squire-trap, never
halloos ''ware bog,' till fiv