end:--if--but come, Henry Pelham, thou hast praised thyself enough for
the present; and, after all, thy future adventures will best tell if thou
art really amended.




CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Mihi jam non regia Roma,
Sed vacuum Tibur placet.
--Horace.

"My dear child," said my mother to me, affectionately, "you must be very
much bored here, pour dire vrai, I am so myself. Your uncle is a very
good man, but he does not make his house pleasant; and I have, lately,
been very much afraid that he should convert you into a mere bookworm;
after all, my dear Henry, you are quite clever enough to trust to your
own ability. Your great geniuses never read."

"True, my dear mother," said I, with a most unequivocal yawn, and
depositing on the table Mr. Bentham upon Popular Fallacies; "true, and I
am quite of your opinion. Did you see in the Post of this morning, how
full Cheltenham was?"

"Yes, Henry; and now you mention it, I don't think you could do better
than to go there for a month or two. As for me, I must return to your
father, whom I left at Lord H--'s: a place, entre nous, very little more
amusing than this--but then one does get one's ecarte table, and that
dear Lady Roseville, your old acquaintance, is staying there."