Certainly my father knew Mr. Trevanion; he never expected a secretary to
sleep! To get through the work required of me by half-past nine, I get
up by candle-light. At half-past nine I am still hunting for Longinus,
when Mr. Trevanion comes in with a bundle of letters.

Answers to half the said letters fall to my share. Directions verbal,--
in a species of short-hand talk. While I write, Mr. Trevanion reads the
newspapers, examines what I have done, makes notes therefrom,--some for
Parliament, some for conversation, some for correspondence,--skims over
the Parliamentary papers of the morning, and jots down directions for
extracting, abridging, and comparing them with others, perhaps twenty
years old. At eleven he walks down to a Committee of the House of
Commons,--leaving me plenty to do,--till half-past three, when he
returns. At four, Fanny puts her head into the room--and I lose mine.
Four days in the week Mr. Trevanion then disappears for the rest of the
day; dines at Bellamy's or a club; expects me at the House at eight
o'clock, in case he thinks of something, wants a fact or a quotation.
He then releases me,--generally with a fresh list of instructions. But
I have my holidays, nevertheless. On Wednesdays and Saturdays Mr.
Trevanion gives dinners, and I meet the most eminent men of the day, on
both sides; for Trevanion is on both sides himself,--or no side at all,
which comes to the same thing. On Tuesdays Lady Ellinor gives me a
ticket for the Opera, and I get there at least in time for the ballet.
I have already invitations enough to balls and soirees, for I am
regarded as an only son of great expectations. I am treated as becomes
a Caxton who has the right, if he pleases, to put a De before his name.
I have grown very smart. I have taken a passion for dress,--natural to
eighteen. I like everything I do, and every one about me. I am over
head and ears in love with Fanny Trevanion, who breaks my heart,
nevertheless; for she flirts with two peers, a life-guardsman, three old