Receiving the permission he sought, Horace acted accordingly, and when the servant appeared, desired him (on a glance from Lord Alfred, delegating all authority to him) to bring a bottle of Seltzer-water, brandy, and a lemon. Possessed of these _desiderata_, he commenced shredding off two or three delicate little spiral circles of lemon-peel, like yellow watch-springs, then dropping these into a Brobdignagian tumbler, warranted not to run over under any severity of effervescence, he added thereunto a liqueur glass full of the purest (and strongest) Cognac. Unwiring the Seltzer-water, he allowed it to draw its own cork (for thus, under his skilful control, did the operation appear to be performed), and, forcing it to explode into the tumbler, he presented the beverage, foaming wildly, to Lord Alfred, who, at the risk of immediate suffocation, drank it off in that rabid condition, and providentially surviving, declared himself greatly benefited by the treatment. Having thus re-invigorated his patient’s exhausted frame, D’Almayne proceeded to perform the same friendly office by his mind, and very good counsel did he bestow upon him--only that his advice had this peculiarity, viz., that whilst in words he recommended Lord Alfred Courtland to bend his steps in a northerly direction, that young nobleman felt an unaccountable conviction that by proceeding due south, he should raise himself in the estimation of his Mentor and of all other men of spirit. Thus he heard, with a complacent smile, that D’Almayne was surprised at the manner in which he had carried all before him at the gaming-table on the previous evening; that every one imagined him to be an old hand at such matters; and one individual, who was generally supposed to make a very decent living by gambling, had declared his conviction that Lord Alfred played on a system, and a deucedly clever system too!--At all of which D’Almayne appeared alarmed and uneasy, and assured his friend that it was a very dangerous talent for a young man, and that it would be a great relief to his mind if Lord Alfred would promise never to go there again; to which his lordship replied by lighting a cigar, handing the box to his Mentor, and asking him whether he considered him such an irreclaimable muff as not to be able to win or lose a matter of a hundred pounds without making a ninny of himself. Declaring himself innocent of any such disrespectful innuendo, D’Almayne also lighted a cigar (it being impossible in these piping times to do anything without plenty of puffing), and these new allies grew loquacious and confidential; but with this difference, that Lord Alfred gave his confidence, and Horace obligingly received the sacred deposit. Thus, after a fair amount of the horticultural cruelty, yclept “beating about the bush,” had been committed, that good young man was made acquainted with the “secret sorrow,” which, as the reader is aware, was