xford is now the metropolis of slander, since it is full of
court-ladies who have now no revels or maskings to amuse them, and never
leave reputations in quiet when they are out of humour. But, to put a
stop to defamation, let me advise a military excursion."

Eustace explained, that it was the will of an absent father, and not
amorous dalliance, which kept him from the field. It was doubtful
whether that father lived; for he was engaged in most severe service.
"Meantime," added he, "my uncle is bound by a promise to keep me from
dangerous enterprises; but as I now begin to think it is disloyal for
any one on the verge of manhood to refuse rallying round the King at his
greatest need, I trust the prohibition will soon be removed. The last
time that I urged Dr. Beaumont on the subject, he answered, that it was
not courage, but bravado, to buckle on the sword, while the discussion
of a pending treaty afforded a prospect of its being speedily ungirded.
But as the Parliamentary commissioners are returned to London, I am
determined again to ask leave to join the army."

"And if refused," said Monthault, "would you stay at Oxford, like a tame
lion in a chain, caressed by old women, and wondered at by spectacled
fellows of colleges." Eustace paused. "I see, my brave fellow," resumed
the tempter, "you are determined to be one of us. I know your heart, and
can predict that the consciousness of positive disobedience will make
you miserable. Go, then, in the hope that your uncle would not have
restrained you. Are you not old enough to judge for yourself? They have
permitted you to chuse a wife; why not also choose your profession?"

"You have determined me," said Eustace, "I will only bid adieu to
Constantia."

"A most lover-like determination!" was Monthault's reply, "and made with
a right prudent command of the impulses of valour. I anticipate the
result. In another hour you will return; press me to your heart; look a
little ashamed; wish me good success; and then sigh out, 'I cannot bear
to leave her.'"

"No," said Eustace; "to prove that I am not a woman's slave, I will only
look the adieu, which may be our last, without telling her my purpose.
Had you a treasure, Monthault, which you valued more than life, would
you not bathe it with a parting tear as you placed it in a casket, while
about to enter on a dangerous undertaking, where your first step may be
to meet death?"

Monthault answered, that soldiers never thought o