Now, Sir Ascot Uppercrust has resolved this day to do or die--“to be a man or a mouse,” as he calls it. Of this young gentleman we have as yet said but little, inasmuch as he is one of that modern school which, abounding in specimens through the higher ranks of society, is best described by a series of negatives. He was _not_ good-looking--he was _not_ clever--he was _not_ well-educated; but, on the other hand, he was not to be intimidated--not to be excited--and _not_ to be taken in. Coolness of mind and body were his principal characteristics; no one ever saw “Uppy” in a hurry, or a dilemma, or what is called “taken aback”; he would have gone into the ring and laid the odds to an archbishop without a vestige of astonishment, and with a carelessness of demeanour bordering upon contempt; or he would have addressed the House of Commons, had he thought fit to honour that formidable assemblage by his presence, with an equanimity and _insouciance_ but little removed from impertinence. A quaint boy at Eton, _cool hand_ at Oxford, a deep card in the regiment, man or woman never yet had the best of “Uppy”; but to-day he felt, for once, nervous and dispirited, and wished “the thing was over,” and settled one way or the other. He was an only son, and not used to be contradicted. His mother had confided to him her own opinion of his attractions, and striven hard to persuade her darling that he had but to see and conquer; nevertheless, the young gentleman was not at all sanguine of success. Accustomed to view things with an impartial and by no means a charitable eye, he formed a dispassionate idea of his own attractions, and extended no more indulgence to himself than to his friends. “Plain, but neat,” he soliloquised that very morning, as he thought over his proceedings whilst dressing; “not much of a talker, but a _devil to think_--good position--certain rank--she’ll be a _lady_, though rather a _Brummagem_ one--house in Lowndes Street--place in the West--family diamonds--and a fairish rent-roll (when the mortgages are paid)--that’s what she would get. Now, what should I get? Nice girl--’gad, she _is_ a nice girl, with her ‘sun-bright hair’ as some fellow says--good temper--good action--_and_ three hundred thousand pounds. The exchange is _rather_ in my favour; but then all girls want to be married, and that squares it, perhaps. If she says ‘Yes,’ sell out--give up hunting--drive her about in a phaeton, and buy a yacht. If she says ‘No,’ get _second leave_--go to Melton in November--and hang on with the regiment, which ain’t a bad sort of life, after all. So it’s hedged both ways. Six to one and half-a-dozen to the other. Very well; to-day we’ll settle it.”