"Doubtless, Sir," answered Harry; "and every year the Duchess of Marlborough, whose perquisite they are, either gives or sells the Queen's old gowns; but when the blame must be laid on some one, 'tis easy to find a man to bear it." "Any other piece of roguery?" asked his father. "No, Sir, I remember none," said Harry. "Just before I left London, the Queen was touching for the evil.[4] 'Tis a solemn ceremony, I am told, though I was not able to see it. 'Tis stale news, I fear, that there hate been prosecutions of newspaper writers for attacks on the Ministry. "No, Harry, I had not heard of that," said the Squire, quickly. "Likely enough! A set of beggarly printers daring to bring out lampoons on gentlemen in the Queen's service! Served 'em right!" "There have been a good many of the lampoons, I believe." "Is it only the Whig Ministers who suffered from these rascally newspapers?" asked his father. "Both sides, Sir," answered Harry. "Well, I am glad the Tories got a bit of it." chuckled Squire Passmore. "There are gentlemen on the other side, Sir, I think," hinted Harry quietly. "Nothing but rogues on the other side, my lad," said his father. "Why, how could they be on the other side if they weren't rogues?" "Why, Father!" said Lucy, who could take more liberties with that gentleman than any one else, and knew it; "you don't think everybody wrong who isn't on the same side as you?" "There can be only one right side," said the Squire, as evasively as oracularly. "I am on it because 'tis right." "Well, my politics," said Charley, yawning, "are that 'tis right because I'm on it." A piece of exalted egotism which provoked universal laughter. "I met in London with a rather pleasant fellow," remarked Harry, "who told me he had been at Ashcliffe, and had the honor, quoth he, of dining with you. A man of the name of Stevens." "Ob, aye! a painter," said the Squire. "Well, he had been in a painter's employ," returned his son, "but is now in a newspaper office: he is employed on the _Gazette_." "What made him change his trade in that way?" "He told me that the painter who had employed him had been but a temporary patron, and having now done with him, he had been unable to get further employment in that line. And having some parts in the way of writing, he had offered his services to one or two of the Whig papers, and is now in the _Gazette's_ office." "He is a sensible fellow," said his father. "A right Whig, I could see, and a thorough conscientious man." Could any person have lifted up the veil, and revealed to him the history and identity of one George Shepherd, he would have felt both amazed and humbled.