It is probably in the reader’s recollection, that De Lancaster in his last conversation with the Reverend Edward Wilson, had promised to collect his thoughts, and offer his opinion on the duties of a preceptor in the learned languages. There was little danger of his forgetting that promise, nor any likelihood of his being unprepared to execute it, for his mind was fully stored with all the several systems of the Greek philosophers. After breakfast the next morning he desired Philip to accompany him and the Wilsons, father and son, into his library. This was not exactly the thing, that Philip had meditated to do, but it was what he could not escape from. He was not however hooked without a small struggle to get free, for as soon as he understood it was to be a cabinet council on the topic of his son’s education, he humbly moved for exemption on the plea of his entire acquiescence in his father’s will and pleasure, modestly declaring that he did not hold himself entitled to form any opinion in the case--besides, he should be glad to take a little air, for his health’s sake. I hope, son Philip, said the old gentleman gravely, neither your health, nor happiness, and give me leave to add--nor your honour can suffer, if you bestow one hour upon your duty to your son, even at the expence of your accustomed devoirs to the lady at the abbey. This was answer quite enough for Philip, who walked doggedly into the lecture room, and took his seat in a corner of it, as far out of the reach of instruction or notice, as he could devise. Edward Wilson took the left hand seat by De Lancaster’s arm-chair, and the colonel seated himself on the other side of the fire place, in front of the old gentleman; Philip, as I before observed, falling into the back-ground, and behind his father.