Looking across the fire, towards her accustomed chair, who has been the
beloved partner of my hearth during the last half of my life, I often
ask (for middle aged gentlemen have the privilege of repeating their
jokes, their questions, their stories) whether two young people ever
were more foolish and imprudent than we were when we married, as we
did, in the year of the old King's death? My son, who has taken some
prodigious leaps in the heat of his fox-hunting, says he surveys the
gaps and rivers which he crossed so safely over with terror afterwards,
and astonishment at his own foolhardiness in making such desperate
ventures; and yet there is no more eager sportsman in the two counties
than Miles. He loves his amusement so much that he cares for no other.
He has broken his collar-bone, and had a hundred tumbles (to his
mother's terror); but so has his father (thinking, perhaps, of a copy
of verse, or his speech at Quarter Sessions) been thrown over his old
mare's head, who has slipped on a stone as they were both dreaming along
a park road at four miles an hour; and Miles's reckless sport has been
the delight of his life, as my marriage has been the blessing of mine;
and I never think of it but to thank Heaven. Mind, I don't set up my
worship as an example. I don't say to all young folks, "Go and marry
upon twopence a year;" or people would look very black at me at our
vestry-meetings; but my wife is known to be a desperate match-maker; and
when Hodge and Susan appear in my justice-room with a talk of allowance,
we urge them to spend their half-crown a week at home, add a little
contribution of our own, and send for the vicar.

Now, when I ask a question of my dear oracle, I know what the answer
will be; and hence, no doubt, the reason why I so often consult her. I
have but to wear a particular expression of face and my Diana takes her
reflection from it. Suppose I say, "My dear, don't you think the moon
was made of cream cheese to-night?" She will say, "Well, papa, it did
look very like cream cheese, indeed--there's nobody like you for droll
similes." Or, suppose I say, "My love, Mr. Pitt's speech was very fine,
but I don't think he is equal to what I remember his father." "Nobody
was equal to my Lord Chatham," says my wife. And then one of the
girls cries, "Why, I have often heard our papa say Lord Chatham was a
charlatan!" On which mamma says, "How like she is to her Aunt Hetty!"

As for Miles, Tros Tyriusve i