The boy retired, and the speaker set to work, describing with great felicity the revelry of the night, and deploring the drunkenness which interfered with the pleasures of the day, and which marred the beauties of the sylvan spot. By turns he was humorous and moral, classical or romantic, and so effective was the article that it was reprinted next day for gratuitous circulation, and with a view to prevent the repetition of such excesses on another occasion, by an ‘Old Teetotaler’ who lived in the neighbourhood of the revelry thus condemned. ‘I think that will fetch the public,’ said the worthy proprietor of the _Daily Journal_, as he lingered over the breakfast-table of his well-furnished mansion in an aristocratic square next morning. ‘That, my dear,’ said he to his better-half, ‘is just what the British public likes—something light and airy, with a moral tag at the end. We are a very high-souled people, and mere flippancy soon palls. I never had any fellow for the right kind of article like poor MacAndrew. What a pity it is that he drank himself to death! One would have thought he was good for another ten years. As soon as he died we had quite a drop in our sale; but since we have got the new hand the sale has been steadily rising. Most of my writers are getting too high and mighty, and think a great deal more of themselves than the public do. But this new hand is more useful. I fancy he is rather hard up. I know he drinks a good deal, and as long as that is the case he will be glad to be on the staff of the _Daily Journal_.’ ‘Well,’ said the lady of the house, ‘ask him to our next soirée.’ ‘I would, but I don’t think he’d care to come. The Cave of Harmony, or the Cider Cellars, is more in his line, and, then, there are the girls. I’ll not have these fellows come here and make love to them.’ ‘No danger of that,’ said the proprietor’s lady. ‘My daughters have been far too well brought up to fall in love with newspaper writers. It might do in Paris, but not in London.’ ‘Dear old girl,’ said the fond husband, ‘you’ve not got over the prejudices of early education and the traditions of Minerva House. We’ve changed all that in these days, when illiterate young noblemen make a living by scribbling scandals for the weekly journals, or are found to appear as amateur performers, or, what is worse still, on the real stage, jostling better men off, while the tuft-hunters applaud and wise men swear.’ ‘Perhaps I am a little faulty,’ replied the wife. Her father was an old-fashioned City merchant, whose one standard of merit was wealth, and who thought his daughter had quite forgotten herself when she fell in love with a man who had anything to do with newspapers. ‘At any rate, I am sure I shall be glad to do what is civil to the poor fellow, should you wish it.’