he dragon has her will of Andromeda
for day after day.

Harry Warrington, who would not have allowed his dislocated and mended
shoulder to keep him from going out hunting, remained day after day
contentedly at Oakhurst, with each day finding the kindly folks who
welcomed him more to his liking. Perhaps he had never, since his
grandfather's death, been in such good company. His lot had lain amongst
fox-hunting Virginian squires, with whose society he had put up very
contentedly, riding their horses, living their lives, and sharing their
punch-bowls. The ladies of his own and mother's acquaintance were
very well bred, and decorous, and pious, no doubt, but somewhat
narrow-minded. It was but a little place, his home, with its pompous
ways, small etiquettes and punctilios, small flatteries, small
conversations and scandals. Until he had left the place, some time
after, he did not know how narrow and confined his life had been there.
He was free enough personally. He had dogs and horses, and might shoot
and hunt for scores of miles round about: but the little lady-mother
domineered at home, and when there he had to submit to her influence and
breathe her air.

Here the lad found himself in the midst of a circle where everything
about him was incomparably gayer, brighter, and more free. He was living
with a man and woman who had seen the world, though they lived retired
from it, who had both of them happened to enjoy from their earliest
times the use not only of good books, but of good company--those live
books, which are such pleasant and sometimes such profitable reading.
Society has this good at least: that it lessens our conceit, by teaching
us our insignificance, and making us acquainted with our betters. If you
are a young person who read this, depend upon it, sir or madam, there is
nothing more wholesome for you than to acknowledge and to associate with
your superiors. If I could, I would not have my son Thomas first Greek
and Latin prize boy, first oar, and cock of the school. Better for his
soul's and body's welfare that he should have a good place, not the
first--a fair set of competitors round about him, and a good thrashing
now and then, with a hearty shake afterwards of the hand which
administered the beating. What honest man that can choose his lot would
be a prince, let us say, and have all society walking backwards before
him, only obsequious household-gentlemen to talk to, and all mankind mum
except when yo