of that.

Farewell, pretty Sophy! the evening star shines upon yon elm-tree that
hides thee from view. Fading-fading grows the summer landscape; faded
already from the landscape thy gentle image! So ends a holiday in life.
Hallow it, Sophy; hallow it, Lionel! Life's holidays are not too many!




CHAPTER XVII.

By this chapter it appeareth that he who sets out on a career can
scarcely expect to walk in perfect comfort, if he exchanges his own
thick-soled shoes for dress-boots which were made for another man's
measure, and that the said boots may not the less pinch for being
brilliantly varnished.--It also showeth, for the instruction of Men
and States, the connection between democratic opinion and wounded
self-love; so that, if some Liberal statesman desire to rouse
against an aristocracy the class just below it, he has only to
persuade a fine lady to be exceedingly civil "to that sort of
people."

Vance, returning late at night, found his friend still up in the little
parlour, the windows open, pacing the floor with restless strides,
stopping now and then to look at the moon upon the river.

"Such a day as I have had! and twelve shillings for the fly, 'pikes not
included," said Vance, much out of humour--