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Rh eye-glass at each of its inquisitive eyes, I confess I lake fright. Besides, it is near seven o'clock; Putney not visible, and the flounders not fried!"

"My cab is waiting yonder; we must walk to it—we can keep on the turf, and avoid the throng. But tell nie honestly, Vance, do you really dislike to mix in crowds—you, with your fame, dislike the eyes that turn back to look again, and the lips that respectfully murmur, 'Vance, the Painter?' Ah, I always said you would be a great painter. And in five short years you have soared high."

"Pooh!" answered Vance, indifferently. "Nothing is pure and unadulterated in London use; not cream, nor cayenne pep- per—least of all. Fame; mixed up with the most deleterious ingredients. Fame! did you read the Times' critique on my pictures in the present Exhibition? Fame, indeed! Change the subject. Nothing so good as flounders. Ho! is that your cab 1 Superb! Car fit for the ' Grecian youth of talents rare ' in Mr. Enfield's Speaker; horse that seems conjured out of the Elgin marbles. Is he quiet?"

"Not very; but trust to my driving. You may well admire the horse—present from Darrell, chosen by Colonel Morley."

When the young men had settled themselves in the vehicle, Lionel dismissed his groom, and, touching his horse, the animal trotted out briskly.

"Frank," said Lionel, shaking his dark curls with a petulant gravity, " your cynical definitions are unworthy that masculine beard. You despise fame! what sheer affectation!

"Take care," cried Vance; " we shall be over." For Lionel, growing excited, teased the horse with his whip; and the horse bolting, took the cab within an inch of a water-cart.

"Fame, Fame!" cried Lionel, unheeding the interruption. "What would I not give to have and to hold it for an hour!"

"Hold an eel, less slippery; a scorpion, less stinging! But—" added Vance, observing his com])anion's heightened color. "But," he added seriously, and with an honest compunction, "I forgot, you are a soldier, you follow the career of arms! Never heed what is said on the subject by a querulous painter! The desire of fame may be folly in civilians, in soldiers it is wisdom. Twin-born with the martial sense of honor, it cheers the march, it warms the bivouac; it gives music to the whirr of