Well, perhaps I might have said something about it," replied Georgie, "but brevity is the soul of wit, you know, so that I am quite certain no joke of mine could have been spoilt by prolixity; some of your friends have inventive powers, I dare say; did you ever hear the tale of the three black crows ?" "No, I am not acquainted with it—a fable, I presume ?" "Not exactly; I will tell you some day when I have time for the benefit of the Encyclopædia.' "Well, my love," said Mrs. Spencer, innocently, "I know that dressmakers are very tiresome, unpunctual people, but I think you would not find it answer to employ tailors; it would be a little inconvenient always to go about in a riding-habit." "Well, Aunt Philippa," said Georgie, "how is the Encyclopædia' getting on ? You seem to hear a great many strange things about me, but what do you think I heard about you? Why that when you want to get an idea, you go birds-nesting, at least not in those words exactly, but that was what I imagined, because they said you were so exalted when you studied." "I, my dear Georgie! never in my life; who could have said such an insulting thing, I beg that you " "Well, aunt, don't be excited, it is a very elevated recreation, much better than dog-fighting." "I should think, my dear Georgie, that the comparative merits do not much outweigh each other." "Well, never mind, Aunt Philippa, let us drop the subject, it is a painful one I know to both of us, I think it very unkind that the public cannot leave us to our private recreations in peace. However, if you will say no more about it, I will lend you half of my umbrella, for Margaret I know likes to have complete possession of all her own property; the only thing I ever knew her willing to give up to me, was her aunt's footman.” 66 Well, Georgie, my generosity on that occasion was quite as selfish, as you describe my love of possession to be," said Margaret, laughing, "since the fact was I wanted to get rid of him." "Now Aunt Philippa, don't look as if you thought we were quarrelling; I always accuse people of faults they do not possess, in order that others may the more admire them when they see their virtues. But to explain, I must tell you that some time ago, I was staying at Aunt Dudley's, and she had a fancy that no young lady should ever be seen out alone as an unprotected female, so Margaret was persecuted with the attendance of Thomson. Well, when I went there, of course Aunt Dudley thought that I was no protection, I suppose; you see, Aunt Philippa, she knows only my virtues, not my faults; not like you who could have told her sad tales of foils and boxing gloves; so what did she do but send Thomson out with me and Margaret. Margaret wanted me to go on, followed by him, and leave her to her own devices, but such generosity was too overpowering, so we agreed together to give Thomson the strictest injunctions never to walk behind us on pain of the direst vengeance, but to go on, some yards in advance, and on the other side of the road. Alice, of course, never goes out without him, and when Í heard that her favourite Mr. Smith had asked her to become a district visitor, I pictured her to myself going to the poor people's cottages, with Thomson behind her, carrying a basket of tracts. Good-bye, Mrs. Spencer, do pay us a visit soon. Oh, Aunt Philippa, pray stay for half my umbrella, or that duck of a bonnet,-to be ladylike in my expressions for once,-will be spoilt." G CHAPTER X. "That bitterest to the lip of pride, Or Love, the flower, that closes up for fear JAMES Loudon from his boyhood had cherished an earnest reverent desire to take holy orders, and with his advancing years, that desire had gained strength. His father had never given utterance to any objection to that choice of a profession, although there had been no stronger mark of approval than a tacit toleration of the idea, and now that the period of his university career was drawing to a close, James became anxious to obtain the decided consent of Dr. Loudon to his wishes. The family were still staying at the Hall, and accordingly, one morning James requested his father to spare him a few minutes, as he wished to consult him on a subject of importance. "You will remember, sir," he began, "that when I went to Oxford, knowing that an active life must of necessity be my portion, and that an appropriate course of study must be followed, I had no difficulty in discovering that my feelings and inclinations would lead me to choose the office of an English priest, a choice which as you then sanctioned, I earnestly wish to carry into practice by offering myself for holy orders." "My dear boy, it is impossible, I will not give my consent to any such wild scheme, it is my deIcided wish that you should never throw your best prospects away upon a visionary plan of self-denying usefulness; I have far other views for you. At the time to which you allude, I of course threw no discouragement upon your boyish fancy, there was no knowing what might turn up, and several of my patients had then, I know, some rich livings in their patronage, but they are dead now, and with their families I have no longer any intercourse." James stood almost stunned with the unexpected destruction of his hopes, it was some minutes before he could speak, and when he did, it was only with faltering tones to state his views of that high vocation he longed to pursue, and to implore his father at least to pause in his decision. "This is absurd, James," said Dr. Loudon, "words cannot express how much I regret your going to Oxford, you had none of these foolish ideas before you went there: but let me tell you, sir, that I shall instantly discontinue your allowance, and if that will gratify your ambition of being thought a saint and a martyr amongst your Oxford brethren, you may become a clergyman, priest as you like to call it. Why should you pause half way, why not go to Rome at once ?' The young man's pale cheek became painfully flushed, and an expression of the deepest distress passed over his intelligent countenance; but he simply observed, "In that case, sir, it will be impossible to hope that my wish could be fulfilled." "So with all your affectation of unworldly, unselfish principles, you know the value of money, and its importance," said Dr. Loudon, in a contemptuous tone, "but perhaps you are mistaken, you may have discovered the art of existing upon nothing, but I never found with all their fasting and self-denial, that your party live less expensively than other people. If you think that you can live upon a curacy of eighty or a hundred a year, pay for lodgings, keep up the appearance of a gentleman, and relieve the poor, of course you are very welcome to do it; if you are convinced that you can meet all the expenses which you add to what are absolutely necessary, with your music, and choir, and decorations, and all the external and internal frippery in fantastic imitation of Popery, for which your brethren are celebrated; if you hope to found monasteries, and support the poor with it, not forgetting yourself, I say that you are a happy man. If you can acquire the Midas-like gift of turning everything you touch into gold, I can have no objection to your exercising the auriferous power. I assure you that with a very good income as a physician, besides a small private fortune, I find it impossible to support my children in independence; and even now that Philip is rather settled, and has an excellent practice, I cannot indulge you in an idle life. You had better not decide at once, I will give you a week to reflect." James turned away in silent but bitter disappointment, and went with a heavy heart to inform his mother of the interview. She listened with tears to his narration, and then suggested, that his friend Gilbert would most probably exert his influence with the doctor, he surely would not fail him at such a time, and as the doctor had set his heart upon a union between him and Agnes, he could scarcely refuse him any reasonable request. "My dear mother, you do not know Gilbert, he |