Mr. Johnson went first, and when he had made his bow, my uncle asked whether his father, Sir Thomas Johnson, were not a very rich man. “Yes,” replied Mr. Bolton, “he is _called_ by courtesy a rich man. He has an immense extent of property, which gives him considerable influence; but he is so _poor_, notwithstanding, that he cannot command a hundred pounds in ready money, while he is governed by such an inordinate pride that he would rather die than shorten his rental by an inch of paper, in selling off land enough to pay the charges on his estate. He is, however, a kind hearted, hospitable man, who married late in life, and thinks his only child, who has just been paying his respects to you, a _sans pareil_, whose hand will amply recompense the largest sacrifice of fortune that can be made to attain it. It is now his great object in life to marry his son, and, though he idolizes pedigree, he thinks his own so transcendent that it will ennoble any inferior race; for which reason he gives it to be understood that family is less an object with him than wealth.” “And pray,” said my uncle, “what sort of young man is Mr. Johnson?” “Empty, pompous, and good-natured,” answered Mr. Bolton. “He has walked so many years up and down a long gallery of portraits, that he honestly believes ‘the boast of heraldry’ to belong peculiarly to his house. As he was never sent to school, he had no opportunity of comparing himself with his superiors, and was not compelled to find his true level by the discipline of a _fagging_ system, or the aristocracy of rank. A private tutor indulged his early indolence; toad-eaters and retainers flattered his youthful vanity; and a short stay at Oxford has put the finish to his education by sending him home an accomplished boxer, rower, and judge of champagne. He is, as may naturally be expected, very extravagant, and such a darling with his parents, that, notwithstanding the difficulty of raising supplies, no curb has ever been put upon his expenditure.” “Then,” observed my uncle, “I suppose that he is _himself_ also looking after a wife.” “Precisely so,” answered Mr. Bolton, “and I have no doubt is certain of success wherever he may fix his attention.” I could not help thinking how little I should envy the future Lady Johnson, whoever she might be, but the conversation was interrupted here by mamma’s return; and in a few minutes Mr. Bolton took his leave. I have written a long letter, but I know that you are interested in all that we say and do, so I need never apologize for being minute in my details. My uncle has some business to do which will detain him here for some weeks longer, and I shall hope to hear from you and write again before we sail for France.