re to his son.

"Ay, Charley, I have knocked about the world as much as most men, and
seen, too, my share of its wonders. If accidents by sea and land can
interest you, if you care for stories of Indian life and the wild habits
of a prairie hunter, I 'm your man. Your father can tell you more of
_salons_ and the great world, of what may be termed the high game of
life--"

"I have forgotten it, as much as if I had never seen it," said Glencore,
interrupting, and with a severity of voice that showed the theme
displeased him. And now a pause ensued, painful perhaps to the others,
but scarcely felt by Harcourt, as he smoked away peacefully, and seemed
lost in the windings of his own fancies.

"Have you shooting here, Glencore?" asked he at length.

"There might be, if I were to preserve the game."

"And you do not. Do you fish?"

"No; never."

"You give yourself up to farming, then?"

"Not even that; the truth is, Harcourt, I literally do nothing. A few
newspapers, a stray review or so, reach me in these solitudes, and keep
me in a measure informed as to the course of events; but Charley and
I con over our classics together, and scrawl sheets of paper with
algebraic signs, and puzzle our heads over strange formulas, wonderfully
indifferent to what the world is doing at the other side of this little
estuary."

"You of all men living to lead such a life as this! a fellow that never
could cram occupation enough into his short twenty-four hours," broke in
Harcourt.

Glencore's pale cheek flushed slightly, and an impatient movement of his
fingers on the table showed how ill he relished any allusion to his own
former life.

"Charley will show you to-morrow all the wonders of our erudition.
Harcourt," said he, changing the subject; "we have got to think
ourselves very learned, and I hope you 'll be polite enough not to
undeceive us."

"You 'll have a merciful critic, Charley," said the Colonel, laughing,
"for more reasons than one. Had the question been how to track a wolf or
wind an antelope, to outmanoeuvre a scout party or harpoon a calf-whale,
I'd not yield to many; but if you throw me amongst Greek roots or double
equations, I 'm only Samson with his hair _en crop!_"

The solemn clock over the mantelpiece struck ten, and the boy arose as
it ceased.

"That's Charley's bedtime," said Glencore, "and we are determined to
make no stranger of you, George. He 'll say good-night."

And with a manner of mingled sh