That is true politeness, said Mrs. Owen, addressing herself respectfully to De Lancaster. It is not often that great learning and great urbanity are found in the same person: when they are, how infinitely they adorn each other!--a reflection this, so much to the honour of Mrs. David Owen, that lest I may not have many to record equally to her credit, I am the more inclined to notice it upon this opportunity. Addressing herself to Mr. Philip De Lancaster, she said--I take for granted, sir, you are extremely fond of the beautiful infant, of which I am to give you joy--Philip bowed and made no answer.--I hear, repeated she, he is an uncommon fine boy--Philip was of opinion that all infants were alike: for his part he could mark no difference between them--Perhaps you have not studied them with quite so much attention as you have given to your books--Philip was not very fond of reading--Of country sports perhaps--Still less--Of planting, farming, building?--Not in the least of either--Mrs. Owen seemed resolved to find his ruling passion--Did he take pleasure in the wholesome exercise of walking?--He doubted if it was wholesome, and he never walked, if he could avoid it: he angled now and then, and had no dislike to a game of chess--I comprehend you now, said the inquisitive lady; fishing is an amusement, that accords with meditation, and chess demands reflection and a fixt attention--I give little or no attention to it, replied Philip; and that may be the reason, why I never win a game--That certainly may be the reason, resumed the lady, and I’m persuaded you have struck upon it. The conversation now took a general turn. Tea was served, and the black prying eyes of Rachel Owen were at leisure to scrutinize the dress and person of Cecilia, whom the baronet seemed now disposed to release from all further solicitation. Master David Owen in the mean time amused himself with teazing a poor little Spanish lap-dog, which, but for him, would have quietly reposed its diminutive body in his mother’s muff. When reprimanded by Sir Owen for tormenting a dumb creature, he set his nails with a most inveterate resolution into the little creature’s tail, and to his infinite delight convinced the hearers, that he had no dumb creature between his fingers. This produced a slight box on the ear from his uncle, and the yell of the suffering dog was instantly overpowered by the louder yell of the enraged tormentor--Poor fellow, said Mrs. Owen, you shall play with little Don when your uncle is not present: boys must be amused; must they not Mr. De Lancaster?--Not with cruelty I should hope, he replied; they ought not to be indulged in that amusement; and it is a very bad prognostic, when they can be amused by it--The dog is of little value to me, said Mrs. Owen, and I would sooner wring his nasty neck off with my own hands, than he should annoy my brother Owen, and expose my darling boy to be punished by him.