been defective of late years, occasions her some difficulty in
calculating distances. Three days ago, her ladyship went to look

out of the window, and, miscalculating the distance--" Here the
butler, with a fine dramatic feeling for telling a story, stopped

just before the climax of the narrative, and looked me in the
face with an expression of the deepest sympathy.

"And miscalculating the distance?" I repeated impatiently.
"Put her head through a pane of glass," said the butler, in a

soft voice suited to the pathetic nature of the communication.
"By great good fortune her ladyship had been dressed for the day,

and had got her turban on. This saved her ladyship's head. But
her ladyship's neck, sir, had a very narrow escape. A bit of the

broken glass wounded it within half a quarter of an inch of the
carotty artery" (meaning, probably, carotid); "I heard the

medical gentleman say, and shall never forget it to my dying day,
that her ladyship's life had been saved by a hair-breadth. As it

was, the blood lost (the medical gentleman said that, too, sir)
was accidentally of the greatest possible benefit, being

apoplectic, in the way of clearing out the system. Her ladyship's
appetite has been improved ever since--the carriage is out airing

of her at this very moment--likewise, she takes the footman's arm
and the maid's up and downstairs now, which she never would hear

of before this last accident. 'I feel ten years younger' (those
were her ladyship's own words to me, this very day), 'I feel ten

years younger, Vokins, since I broke the drawing-room window.'
And her ladyship looks it!"

No doubt. Here was the key to Mr. Batterbury's letter of
forgiveness. His chance of receiving the legacy looked now

further off than ever; he could not feel the same confidence as
his wife in my power of living down any amount of starvation and

adversity; and he was, therefore, quite ready to take the first
opportunity of promoting my precious personal welfare and

security, of which he could avail himself, without spending a
farthing of money. I saw it all clearly, and admired the

hereditary toughness of the Malkinshaw family more gratefully
than ever. What should I do? Go to Duskydale? Why not? It didn't

matter to me where I went, now that I had no hope of ever seeing
those lovely brown eyes again.

I got to my new destination the next day, presented my
credentials, gave myself the full advantage of my high

connections, and was received with enthusiasm and distinction.
I found the new Institution torn by internal schisms even before

it was opened to the public. Two factious governed it--a grave
faction and a gay faction. Two questions agitated it: the first

referring to the propriety of celebrating the opening season by a
public ball, and the second to the expediency of admitting novels

into the library. The grim Puritan interest of the whole
neighborhood was, of course, on the grave side--against both

dancing and novels, as proposed by local loose thinkers and
latitudinarians of every degree. I was officially introduced to

the debate at the height of the squabble; and found myself one of
a large party in a small room, sitting round a long table, each

man of us with a new pewter inkstand, a new quill pen, and a
clean sheet of foolscap paper before him. Seeing that everybody

spoke, I got on my legs along with the rest, and made a slashing
speech on the loose-thinking side. I was followed by the leader

of the grim faction--an unlicked curate of the largest
dimensions.

"If there were, so to speak, no other reason against dancing,"
said my reverendopponent, "there is one unanswerable objection

to it. Gentlemen! John the Baptist lost his head through
dancing!"'

Every man of the grim faction hammered delightedly on the table,
as that formidableargument was produced; and the curate sat down

in triumph. I jumped up to reply, amid the counter-cheering of
the loose-thinkers; but before I could say a word the President

of the Institution and the rector of the parish came into the
room.

They were both men of authority, men of sense, and fathers of
charming daughters, and they turned the scale on the right side

in no time. The question relating to the admission of novels was
postponed, and the question of dancing or no dancing was put to

the vote on the spot. The President, the rector and myself, the
three handsomest and highest-bred men in the assembly, led the

way on the liberal side, waggishly warning all gallant gentlemen
present to beware of disappointing the young ladies. This decided

the waverers, and the waverers decided the majority. My first
business, as Secretary, was the drawing out of a model card of

admission to the ball.
My next occupation was to look at the rooms provided for me.

The Duskydale Institution occupied a badly-repaired ten-roomed
house, with a great flimsy saloon built at one side of it,

smelling of paint and damp plaster, and called the Lecture
Theater. It was the chilliest, ugliest, emptiest, gloomiest place

I ever entered in my life; the idea of doing anything but sitting
down and crying in it seemed to me quite preposterous; but the

committee took a different view of the matter, and praised the
Lecture Theater as a perfect ballroom. The Secretary's apartments

were two garrets, asserting themselves in the most barefaced
manner, without an attempt at disguise. If I had intended to do

more than earn my first quarter's salary, I should have
complained. But as I had not the slightest intention of remaining

at Duskydale, I could afford to establish a reputation for
amiability by saying nothing.

"Have you seen Mr. Softly, the new Secretary? A most
distinguished person, and quite an acquisition to the

neighborhood." Such was the popular opinion of me among the young
ladies and the liberal inhabitants. "Have you seen Mr. Softly,

the new Secretary? A worldly, vainglorious young man. The last
person in England to promote the interests of our new

Institution." Such was the counter-estimate of me among the
Puritan population. I report both opinions quite disinterestedly.

There is generally something to be said on either side of every
question; and, as for me, I can always hold up the scales

impartially, even when my own character is the substance weighing
in them. Readers of ancient history need not be reminded, at this

time of day, that there may be Roman virtue even in a Rogue.
The objects, interests, and general business of the Duskydale

Institution were matters with which I never thought of troubling
myself on assuming the duties of Secretary. All my energies were

given to the arrangements connected with the opening ball.
I was elected by acclamation to the office of general manager of

the entertainments; and I did my best to deserve the confidence
reposed in me; leaving literature and science, so far as I was

concerned, perfectly at liberty to advance themselves or not ,
just as they liked. Whatever my colleagues may have done, after I

left them, nobody at Duskydale can accuse me of having ever been
accessory to the disturbing of quiet people with useful

knowledge. I took the arduous and universally" target="_blank" title="ad.普遍地">universally neglected duty of
teaching the English people how to be amused entirely on my own

shoulders, and left the easy and customary business of making
them miserable to others.

My unhappy countrymen! (and thriceunhappy they of the poorer
sort)--any man can preach to them, lecture to them, and form them

into classes--but where is the man who can get them to amuse
themselves? Anybody may cram their poor heads; but who will

brighten their grave faces? Don't read story-books, don't go to
plays, don't dance! Finish your long day's work and then

intoxicate your minds with solid history, revel in the
too-attractive luxury of the lecture-room, sink under the soft

temptation of classes for mutualinstruction! How many potent,
grave and reverent tongues discourse to the popular ear in these

siren strains, and how obediently and resignedly this same weary
popular ear listens! What if a bold man spring up one day, crying

aloud in our social wilderness, "Play, for Heaven's sake, or you
will work yourselves into a nation of automatons! Shake a loose

leg to a lively fiddle! Women of England! drag the lecturer off
the rostrum, and the male mutualinstructor out of the class, and

ease their poor addled heads of evenings by making them dance and
sing with you. Accept no offer from any man who cannot be proved,

for a year past, to have systematically lost his dignity at least
three times a week, after office hours. You, daughters of Eve,