ntrigant_, and devoted these goodly talents of
mine to small state rogueries in committees and adjourned debates, I'd
have been somebody in these dull times of aspiring mediocrity; but as my
ambitions have never soared beyond the possession of what may carry
on the war of life, irrespective of its graver honors, you
moralists--Heaven bless the mark!--rather regard me distrustfully.
Now, let me tell you a secret, and it's one worth the knowing. There's
nothing so fatal to a man's success in life as 'a little character;'
a really great one may dispense with every kind of ability and
acquirement. Get your name once up in our English public, and you
may talk, preach, and write the most rank nonsense with a very long
impunity; but a little character, like a small swimming bladder, only
buoys you up long enough to reach deep water and be drowned. To journey
the road of life with this is to 'carry weight' Take my advice,--I
give it in all sincerity; you are as poor a man as myself; there are
thousands of luxuries you can afford yourself, but this is too costly
an indulgence for a small fortune. Your 'little character' is a kind of
cankering conscience, not strong enough to keep you out of wickedness,
but sufficiently active to make you miserable afterwards. An everlasting
suggester of small scruples, it leaves a man no time for anything but
petty expedients and devices, and you hang suspended all your life
between desire and denial, without the comfort of the one or the credit
of the other."

"Is the sermon over?" said Lord Charles, rather affectedly than really
feeling tired of the "tirade," "or are you only rehearsing the homily
before you preach it to Roland Cashel?"

"Quite wrong there, my Lord," said Linton, with the same imperturbable
temper. "Cashel is rich enough to afford himself any caprice, even a
good name, if he like it You and I take ours as we do railway tickets,
any number that's given us!" And with this speech, delivered in an air
of perfect quietude, but still emphatically slow, he settled his hat on
before the glass, arranged his whiskers, and walked away.

Lord Charles, for a second, seemed disposed to make an angry reply, but,
correcting the impulse, he walked to the window in silence. "I have half
a mind to spoil your game, my worthy friend," muttered he, as the other
passed across the court-yard; "one word to Cashel would do it To be sure
it is exploding the mine with one's own hand to the fusee; that'