_Shuff._ Not a bit--I give you my honour, I did'nt find it inconvenient at all. How is Frank Rochdale? _Sir Simon._ Why, my son is'nt up yet; and before he's stirring, do let me talk to you, my dear Tom Shuffleton! I have something near my heart, that-- _Shuff._ Don't talk about your heart, Baronet;--feeling's quite out of fashion. _Sir Simon._ Well, then, I'm interested in---- _Shuff._ Aye, stick to that. We make a joke of the heart, now-a-days; but when a man mentions his interest, we know he's in earnest. _Sir Simon._ Zounds! I am in earnest. Let me speak, and call my motives what you will. _Shuff._ Speak--but don't be in a passion. We are always cool at the clubs: the constant habit of ruining one another, teaches us temper. Explain. _Sir Simon._ Well, I will. You know, my dear Tom, how much I admire your proficiency in the New school of breeding;--you are, what I call, one of the highest finished fellows of the present day. _Shuff._ Psha! Baronet; you flatter. _Sir Simon._ No, I don't; only in extolling the merits of the newest fashion'd manners and morals, I am sometimes puzzled, by the plain gentlemen, who listen to me, here in the country, most consumedly. _Shuff._ I don't doubt it. _Sir Simon._ Why, 'twas but t'other morning, I was haranguing old Sir Noah Starchington, in my library, and explaining to him the shining qualities of a dasher, of the year eighteen hundred and three; and what do you think he did? _Shuff._ Fell asleep. _Sir Simon._ No; he pull'd down an English dictionary; when (if you'll believe me! he found my definition of stylish living, under the word "insolvency;" a fighting crop turn'd out a "dock'd bull dog;" and modern gallantry, "adultery and seduction." _Shuff._ Noah Starchington is a damn'd old twaddler.--But the fact is, Baronet, we improve. We have voted many qualities to be virtues, now, that they never thought of calling virtues formerly. The rising generation wants a new dictionary, damnably. _Sir Simon._ Deplorably, indeed! You can't think, my dear Tom, what a scurvy figure you, and the dashing fellows of your kidney, make in the old ones. But you have great influence over my son Frank; and want you to exert it. You are his intimate--you come here, and pass two or three months at a time, you know. _Shuff._ Yes--this is a pleasant house. _Sir Simon._ You ride his horses, as if they were your own. _Shuff._ Yes--he keeps a good stable. _Sir Simon._ You drink our claret with him, till his head aches. _Shuff._ Your's is famous claret, Baronet. _Sir Simon._ You worm out his secrets: you win his money; you----. In short, you are---- _Shuff._ His friend, according to the next new dictionary. That's what you mean, Sir Simon. _Sir Simon._ Exactly.--But, let me explain. Frank, if he doesn't play the fool, and spoil all, is going to be married. _Shuff._ To how much? _Sir Simon._ Damn it, now, how like a modern man of the world that is! Formerly they would have asked to who.