What Will He Do With It, Book 2.

a Roman's villa. Nor, whether ceilings be fretted with gold and ivory, or whether only coloured with whitewash, does it matter to Care any more than it does to a hou

educent"? Would not even Damocles himself have forgotten the

, and the prefatory words of "Welcome here to a Haughton." Mr. Fairthorn was less abstemious; tasted of every dish, after examining it long through a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles, and drank leisurely through a bottle of port, holding up every glass to the light. Darrell talked with his usual cold but not uncourteous in

auses why the Italian masters admit of copyists with greater facility than the

as a judge of pictures, becaus

eins! and that head by Leonardo da Vinci!" He stopped; looked extremely frightened; helped hi

ere, sir?"

yourself, Lionel?" took a volume at random from the nearest shelf, and soon seemed absorbed in its contents. The room, made irregular by baywindows, and shelves that projected as in public libraries, abounded with nook and recess. To one of these Fairthorn sidled himself, and became invisible. Lionel looked round the shelves. No belles lettres of our immediate generation were found there; none of those authors most in request in circulating libraries and literary institutes. The shelves disclosed no poets, no essayists, no novelists, more recent than the Johnsonian age. Neither in the lawyer's library were to be fou

thorn, th

e "Faerie Queene." As the air flowed liquid on, Lionel's eyes filled with tears. He did not observe that Darrell was intently watching him. When the music stopped, he turned aside to wipe the tears from his eyes. Somehow or other, what with the poem, what with the flute, his thoug

Do you write poetry?" "N

he lighted his candle, murmured a quick good-night, and d

airthorn, who now emerged

nted me! I never believed the flute co

the better to contemplate the face of his eulogist. "So you were pleased! r

d word! Who would not

hear me in t

do so-to

is questions as if you did not care how he turned you inside out. Never ask him a question, as if you sought to know what h

discordant chuckle, and, nodding his head nervously and cordially, shambled away w