Nothing occurred of any importance during our ride. Gerard talked much of Cupids, and Hymen; but, inasmuch as we were not partakers of his passion, we could not reasonably be expected to partake of his inspiration. Upon our arrival at Mowbray Lodge we were shown into a room so crowded with company that we almost fancied we had been ushered into the Earl’s levee instead of his daughter’s drawing-room. The eye of a lover, however, was more keen. Gerard soon perceived the Goddess of the Shrine receiving the incense of adulation from a crowd of votaries. Amongst these he immediately enrolled himself, while we, apprehensive that our company might be troublesome to him, hung back, and became imperceptibly engaged in conversation with some gentlemen of our acquaintance. To speak the truth, on our way to the Lodge these “Thoughts on Turn Out” had been the subject of our reveries, and whatever expressions or opinions we heard around us appeared to coincide with the cogitations with which we were occupied. We first became much interested in the laments of an old gentleman who was bewailing the “Turn Out” of a friend at the last election for the county of----. Next we listened to an episode from a dandy, who was discussing the extraordinary coat “turned out” by Mr. Michael Oakley at the last county ball. Finally, we were engaged in a desperate argument with a Wykehamist, upon the comparative degree of talent “turned out” from each of the public schools during the last ten years. Of course we proceeded to advocate the cause of our foster-mother against the pretensions of our numerous and illustrious rivals. Alas! we felt our unworthiness to stand forward as Etona’s panegyrist, but we made up in enthusiasm what we wanted in ability. We ran over with volubility the names of those thrice-honoured models, whose deserved success is constantly the theme of applause and the life-spring of emulation among their successors. We had just brought our catalogue down to the names of our more immediate forerunners, and were dwelling with much complacency on the abilities which have during the last few years so nobly supported the fair fame of Eton at the Universities, when our eye was caught by the countenance of our hon. friend, which at this moment wore an appearance of such unusual despondence, that we hastened immediately to investigate the cause. Upon inquiry, we learned that Montgomery was most romantically displeased, because Caroline had refused to sing an air of which he was passionately fond. We found we had just arrived in time for the finale of the dispute. “And so you can’t sing this to oblige me?” said Gerard. Caroline looked refusal. “I shall know better than to expect such a condescension again,” said Gerard, with a low sigh. “Tant mieux!” said Caroline, with a low curtsey. The audience were unanimous in an unfeeling laugh, in the midst of which Gerard made a precipitate retreat, or, as O’Connor expresses it, “ran away like mad,” and we