of his, of whom my father did
not approve--mostly Guardsmen; also friends of my own--medical
students, and one or two fellow-chemists, who were serious, and
pleased my father. We often had a capital time: chemical experiments
and explosions, and fearful stinks, and poisoned waters of
enchanting hue; also oysters, lobsters, dressed crab for lunch--and
my Burgundy was good, I promise you, whether white or red!

[Illustration: SOLITUDE]

We also had songs and music of every description. Barty's taste had
improved. He could sing Beethoven's "Adelaida" in English, German,
and Italian, and Schubert's "Serenade" in French--quite charmingly,
to his own ingenious accompaniment on the guitar.

We had another vocalist, a little Hebrew art-student, with a
heavenly tenor (I've forgotten his name); and Ticklets, the bass;
and a Guardsman who could yodel and imitate a woman's voice--one
Pepys, whom Barty loved because he was a giant, and, according to
Barty, "the handsomest chap in London."

These debauches generally happened when my father was
abroad--always, in fact. I'm greatly ashamed of it all now; even
then my heart smote me heavily at times when I thought of the pride
and pleasure he took in all my scientific appliances, and the money
they cost him--twenty guineas for a pair of scales! Poor dear old
man! he loved to weigh things in them--a feather, a minute crumb of
cork, an infinitesimal wisp of cotton wool!...

However, I've made it all up to him since in many ways; and he has
told me that I have been a good son, after all! And that is good to
think of now that I am older than he was when he died!

* * * * *

One fine morning, before going to business, I escorted my sister to
Bedford Square, calling for Leah Gibson on the way; as we walked up
Great Russell Street (that being the longest way round I could think
of), we met Barty, looking as fresh as a school-boy, and resplendent
as usual. I remember he had on a long blue frock-coat, check
trousers, an elaborate waistcoat and scarf, and white hat--as was
the fashion--and that he looked singularly out of place (and
uncommonly agreeable to the eye) in such an austere and learned
neighborhood.

He was coming to call for me in Brunswick Square.

My sister introduced him to her friend, and he looked down at Leah
with a surprised glance of delicate fatherly admiration--he might
have been fifty.

Then we left the young ladies and went off