they came out, because I heard he was a good
Christian. But I fell upon a little tract of his, 'Notes on
Sheepfolds,' and gave him up again, when I found that he had a
leaning to that 'Clapham sect.' I have dropped politics: for I
have no reason, no ground, no principle in them, but expediency.
When they asked me this summer to represent the interests of the
county in Parliament, I asked them how they came to make such a
mistake as to fancy that I knew what was their interest, or anyone
else's? I am becoming more and more of an animal; fragmentary,
inconsistent, seeing to the root of nothing, unable to unite things
in my own mind. I just do the duty which lies nearest, and looks
simplest. I try to make the boys grow up plucky and knowing-though
what's the use of it? They will go to college with even less
principles than I had, and will get into proportionably worse
scrapes, I expect to be ruined by their debts before I die. And for
the rest, I read nothing but "The Edinburgh" and "The Agricultural
Gazette." My talk is of bullocks. I just know right from wrong
enough to see that the farms are in good order, pay my labourers
living wages, keep the old people out of the workhouse, and see that
my cottages and schools are all right; for I suppose I was put here
for some purpose of that kind-though what it is I can't very clearly
define-And there's an end of my long story."

"Not quite an animal yet, it seems?" said I with a smile, half to
hide my own sadness at a set of experiences which are, alas! already
far too common, and will soon be more common still.

"Nearer it than you fancy. I am getting fonder and fonder of a good
dinner and a second bottle of claret-about their meaning there is no
mistake. And my principal reason for taking the hounds two years
ago was, I do believe, to have something to do in the winter which
required no thought, and to have an excuse for falling asleep after
dinner, instead of arguing with Jane about her scurrilous religious
newspapers-There is a great gulf opening, I see, between me and her-
And as I can't bridge it over I may as well forget it. Pah! I am
boring you, and over-talking myself. Have a cigar, and let us say
no more about it. There is more here, old fellow, than you will
cure by doses of Socratic Dialectics."

"I am not so sure of that," I replied. "On the contrary, I should
recommend you in your present state of mind to look out your old
Plato as quickly as p