There was only one element of light to be thankful for in this, among the many mysteries of existence. When you thought of the low life of Prince and his friend Jack, with all their shortcomings and deprivations, and, in the middle of it, how courageously—though it might be with a stolid courage—the dog and the lad endured misfortunes unmerited as well as merited, and what an absolute hearty relish remained to them wherewith to seize and enjoy every scrap of pleasure that came in their way in the course of the day’s difficulties; how they were not weary of life, in spite of the troubles they had known, but were always looking forward, in the teeth of their experience, to happier to-morrows—even when Prince was dragging out his dreary days in Mr. Jerry Noakes’ yard—then you could not help seeing there was compensation in life both for men and dogs. At least, where men’s blundering arrangements are concerned, it is the tendency of riches to produce surfeit, and of polish to sharpen the blade to an impracticable fineness, till it not only wears out the scabbard, but bends and breaks in the hand of him who uses it. But, for my part, I think the man and dog here were far too much alike for their good. If they could have been parted, and De Vaux fitted with a rollicking, though gruff young mastiff or Newfoundland, and Carlo with a light-hearted, if empty-headed young squire, it would have been better for both of them. In course of time the earl became superannuated, and more responsibilities were heaped on De Vaux’s shoulders, bending, notwithstanding their developed muscularity, under their present load, which the bearer was growing more and more fain to shirk. My lady, plied with representations by friends and relatives of the family, became alarmed at the supineness of her son, with the waste of all his youthful promise, and his increasing inclination to let the active current of life sweep by him, while he buried himself in a remote retreat, taking with him his unemployed talent to rust there. One winter evening at the castle the curtains were drawn, and tea had been brought in and carried out. Mother and son were alone together in their several corners, behind their respective screens, and having their private little tables, laden with books, drawing materials, ladies’ work, and flowers, between them and the blazing fire. Carlo was stretched decorously on the white bear skin which served as a hearthrug. Then the countess spoke out, and urged on De Vaux all the arguments which could stir his principles or rouse his ambition. But he had always the same answer. Was it his father’s wishes that were pled? Ah! it was too late, so far as affording his father gratification went; besides, De Vaux had been persuaded from the first that, since he must have followed his own convictions, he would have run counter to his father’s opinions, and only contrived to vex and disappoint him in a public career.