picturesque, but it is dirty, and apparently averse to mirth.
Dresden has much to recommend it, and had Lord Brentford with his
daughter come abroad in quest of comfortable easy social life, his
choice would have been well made. But, as it was, any of the towns
above named would have suited him as well as Dresden, for he saw no
society, and cared nothing for the outward things of the world around
him. He found Dresden to be very cold in the winter and very hot in
the summer, and he liked neither heat nor cold; but he had made up
his mind that all places, and indeed all things, are nearly equally
disagreeable, and therefore he remained at Dresden, grumbling almost
daily as to the climate and manners of the people.

Phineas, when he arrived at the hall door, almost doubted whether he
had not been as wrong in visiting Lord Brentford as he had in going
to Loughlinter. His friendship with the old Earl had been very
fitful, and there had been quarrels quite as pronounced as the
friendship. He had often been happy in the Earl's house, but the
happiness had not sprung from any love for the man himself. How would
it be with him if he found the Earl hardly more civil to him than the
Earl's son-in-law had been? In former days the Earl had been a man
quite capable of making himself disagreeable, and probably had not
yet lost the power of doing so. Of all our capabilities this is the
one which clings longest to us. He was thinking of all this when he
found himself at the door of the Earl's house. He had travelled all
night, and was very cold. At Leipsic there had been a nominal twenty
minutes for refreshment, which the circumstances of the station had
reduced to five. This had occurred very early in the morning, and had
sufficed only to give him a bowl of coffee. It was now nearly ten,
and breakfast had become a serious consideration with him. He almost
doubted whether it would not have been better for him to have gone to
an hotel in the first instance.

He soon found himself in the hall amidst a cluster of servants, among
whom he recognised the face of a man from Saulsby. He had, however,
little time allowed him for looking about. He was hardly in the house
before Lady Laura Kennedy was in his arms. She had run forward, and
before he could look into her face, she had put up her cheek to his
lips and had taken both his hands. "Oh, my friend," she said; "oh,
my friend! How good you are to come to me! How good you are to come!"
And