A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING.

RALPH GRIM was born a gentleman.
He had the misfortune of coming into
the world some ten years later than
might reasonably have been expected.
Colonel Grim and his lady had celebrated twelve
anniversaries of their wedding-day, and had
given up all hopes of ever having a son and
heir, when this late-comer startled them by his
unexpected appearance. The only previous
addition to the family had been a daughter, and
she was then ten summers old.

Ralph was a very feeble child, and could only
with great difficulty be persuaded to retain his
hold of the slender thread which bound him to
existence. He was rubbed with whisky, and
wrapped in cotton, and given mare's milk to
drink, and God knows what not, and the Colonel
swore a round oath of paternal delight
when at last the infant stopped gasping in that
distressing way and began to breathe like other
human beings. The mother, who, in spite of
her anxiety for the child's life, had found time
to plot for him a career of future magnificence,
now suddenly set him apart for literature,