fishing and horseracing--eating, drinking, and killing, and making
love--eternal court gossip and tittle-tattle--the Prince--the
Queen--whom and what the Queen likes, whom and what she doesn't!--tame
English party politics--the Church--a Church that doesn't know its own
mind, in spite of its deans, bishops, archbishops, and their wives and
daughters--and all their silly, solemn sense of social rank and dignity!
Endless small-talk, dinners, and drums, and no society from year's end
to year's end but each other! Ah, one must be caught young, and put in
harness early, to lead such an existence as that and be content! And I
had met and known _such_ men and women with my father! They _were_
something to know!

There is another society in London and elsewhere--a freemasonry of
intellect and culture and hard work--_la haute boheme du talent_--men
and women whose names are or ought to be household words all over the
world; many of them are good friends of mine, both here and abroad; and
that society, which was good enough for my father and mother, is quite
good enough for me.

I am a republican, Mr. Ibbetson--a cosmopolite--a born Bohemian!

_"'Mon grand pere etait rossignol; Ma grand mere etait hirondelle!"_

[Illustration]

Look at my dear people there--look at your dear people! What waifs and
strays, until their ship comes home, which we know it never will! Our
fathers forever racking their five wits in the pursuit of an idea! Our
mothers forever racking theirs to save money and make both ends
meet!... Why, Mr. Ibbetson, you are nearer to the _rossignol_ than I am.