tiously. "All I 'll say for the present
is, I may want you."

Classon took out a small and very greasy-looking notebook from his
waistcoat-pocket, and with his pencil in hand, said, "About what time
are you likely to need me? Don't be particular as to a day or a week,
but just in a rough-guessing sort of way say when."

"I should say in less than a month from this time,--perhaps within a
fortnight."

"All right," said Classon, closing his book, after making a brief note.
"You smile," said he, blandly, "at my methodical habits, but I have been
a red-tapist all my life, Kit I don't suppose you 'll find any man's
papers, letters, documents, and so forth, in such trim order as
mine,--all labelled, dated, and indexed. Ah! there is a great philosophy
in this practical equanimity; take my word for it, there is."

"How far are we from Neuwied here?" asked Davis, half pettishly; for
every pretension of his reverend friend seemed to jar upon his nerves.

"About sixteen or eighteen miles, I should say?"

"I must go or send over there to-morrow," continued Davis. "The
postmaster sends me word that several letters have arrived,--some to my
address, some to my care. Could you manage to drive across?"

"Willingly; only remember that once I leave this blessed sanctuary I may
find the door closed against my return. They 've a strange legislation
here--"

"I know--I 've heard of it," broke in Davis. "I 'll guarantee
everything, so that you need have no fears on that score. Start at
daybreak, and fetch back all letters you find there for me or for the
Honorable Annesley Beecher."

"The Honorable Annesley Beecher!" said Classon, as he wrote the name
in his note-book. "Dear me! the last time I heard that name was--let
me see--fully twelve years ago. It was after that affair at Brighton.
I wrote an article for the 'Heart of Oak,' on the 'Morality of our
Aristocracy.' How I lashed their vices! how I stigmatized their lives of
profligacy and crime!"

"You infernal old hypocrite!" cried Davis, with a half-angry laugh.

"There was no hypocrisy in that, Kit. If I tell you that a statue is
bad in drawing, or incorrect in anatomy, I never assert thereby that I
myself have the torso of Hercules or the limbs of Antinous."

"Leave people's vices alone, then; they 're the same as their debts; if
you're not going to pay them, you 've no right to talk about them."

"Only on public grounds, Kit Our duty to society, my dear friend, has
its