on my way
to a place of worship once, I passed a Puritan, who was complaining of a
butterfly that fluttered prettily abroad in desecration of the Day of
Rest. "Friend," said I to him, "conclusively you prove to me that you are
not a butterfly." Surly did no more than favour me with the anathema of
his countenance.'

'Cousin Beamish, my complaint of these young people is, that they miss
their pleasure in pursuing it. I have lectured my duchess--'

'Ha!'

'Foolish, I own,' said the duke. 'But suppose, now, you had caught your
butterfly, and you could neither let it go nor consent to follow its
vagaries. That poses you.'

'Young people,' said Mr. Beamish, 'come under my observation in this poor
realm of mine--young and old. I find them prodigiously alike in their
love of pleasure, differing mainly in their capacity to satisfy it. That
is no uncommon observation. The young, have an edge which they are
desirous of blunting; the old contrariwise. The cry of the young for
pleasure is actually--I have studied their language--a cry for burdens.
Curious! And the old ones cry for having too many on their shoulders:
which is not astonishing. Between them they make an agreeable concert
both to charm the ears and guide the steps of the philosopher, whose
wisdom it is to avoid their tracks.'

'Good. But I have asked you for practical advice, and you give me an
essay.'

'For the reason, duke, that you propose a case that suggests hanging. You
mention two things impossible to be done. The alternative is, a garter
and the bedpost. When we have come upon crossways, and we can decide
neither to take the right hand nor the left, neither forward nor back,
the index of the board which would direct us points to itself, and
emphatically says, Gallows.'

'Beamish, I am distracted. If I refuse her the visit, I foresee
dissensions, tears, games at ball, romps, not one day of rest remaining
to me. I could be of a mind with your Puritan, positively. If I allow it,
so innocent a creature in the atmosphere of a place like this must suffer
some corruption. You should know that the station I took her from was
. . . it was modest. She was absolutely a buttercup of the fields. She has
had various masters. She dances . . . she dances prettily, I could say
bewitchingly. And so she is now for airing her accomplishments: such are
women!'

'Have you heard of Chloe?' said Mr. Beamish. 'There you have an example
of a young lady uncorrupted by this pla