“My dear and worthy friend,” rejoined Classon, “the tone in which I appeal to you is my tribute to your high ability. To an inferior man I had spoken very different language. Sentiments are not the less real that they are expressed with a certain embroidery, just as a Bank post-bill would be very good value though a Choctaw Indian might deem it a piece of waste-paper.” “I 'd like to see you try it on with Lizzy in this fashion,” said Davis. “I don't think even your friend the Choctaw Indian would save you.” “I should be proud of even defeat at such hands!” exclaimed Paul, rapturously. “You 'd have little to be proud of when she 'd have done with you,” cried Grog, all his good-humor restored by the mere thought of his daughter. “Have you spoken to his Lordship about what I mentioned?” said Paul, half diffidently. “No,” said Grog; “on reflection, I thought it better not. I 'm sure, besides, that there's no Church preferment in his gift; and then, Classon, he knows you, as who does not?” “'Quæ regio terræ non plena est?' Ay, Grog, you and I have arrived at what the world calls Fame.” “Speak for yourself, sir; I acknowledge no partnership in the case. When I have written letters, they have not been begging ones; and when I have stretched out my hand, there was no pistol in the palm of it!” “Very true, Kit; _I_ never had a soul above petty larceny, and _you_ had a spirit that aspired to transportation for life.” Davis bounded on his chair, and glowered with a fearful stare at the speaker, who meanwhile drained the decanter into his glass with an unmoved serenity. “Don't be angry, my ancient friend,” said he, blandly. “The cares of friendship, like the skill of a surgeon, must often pain to be serviceable. Happy let us call ourselves when no ruder hand wields the probe or the bistoury!” “Make an end of canting, I want to speak to you about matters of moment. You will set out to-day, I hope.” “Immediately after the marriage.” “What road do you take?” “Strasburg, Paris, Marseilles, whence direct to Constantinople by the first steamer.” “After that?” “Across the Black Sea to Balaklava.” “But when do you reach the Crimea?” “Balaklava is _in_ the Crimea.” Davis flushed scarlet. The reflection on his geography wounded him, and he winced under it. “Are you quite clear that you understand my instructions?” said he, testily. “I wish I was as sure of a deanery,” said Paul, smacking his lips over the last glass. “You can scarcely wish over-well to the Church, when you desire to be one of its dignitaries,” said Davis, with a sarcastic grin. “Why so, my worthy friend? There is a wise Scotch adage says, 'It taks a' kind of folk to mak a warld;' and so, various orders of men, with gifts widely differing, if not discrepant, are advantageously assembled into what we call corporations.”