"The modern young man, with a selfishness as short-sighted as--selfishness, which is always short-sighted, has desired _all_ the delights of life. He likes the society of the venal Cynthia of the minute, as his forefathers have done before him, but it has seemed too him too much trouble to disguise that liking, in deference to the feelings of purer Cynthias, as his forefathers did before him. When Junius wished to brand the Duke of Grafton with ineffable shame, he charged him with having flaunted Miss Parsons before the offended eyes of royalty; now-a-days such a reproach would seem the emptiest oratorical truism. The royalty of virtuous womanhood is offended every day by a procession of Miss Parsonses. Everywhere Miss Parsons is followed and worshipped. At covert-side, on parade of Brighton, or in lamplit gardens of Scarborough, in opera-house and on race-course, abroad or at home--the Parsonian worship is still going on. Miss Parsons has her matins and her vespers, her choral services at five o'clock, her gatherings at all hours and all places. The bells are always pealing that call the faithful of the Parsonian creed. And woman's poor little stock of logic only enables her to frame one fatal syllogism: Miss Parsons is admired; Miss Parsons is beloved; Therefore to be like Miss Parsons is to be admirable and loveable." When the season ended it was customary for Sir Charles Mordaunt to rejoin his wife at Walton Hall, and it might have been believed that after the gaieties of the winter revels, the mistress of the mansion would seek a little rest and the quiet of the country. But no. The country seat was always full of "fast" ladies and "fast" gentlemen. Sporting men and people of loose characters, whom no sensible man would admit to the presence of his wife, became the intimates of Lady Mordaunt. In fine, the Coles, Farquhars, Johnstones, Waterfords, Hamiltons, and the like, were "doing Lady Mordaunt's business for her," as I heard a London barrister express it. People began to talk about her, and she lost the respect of her friends, who dropped off one by one. Her poor old father, Sir Thomas Moncrieffe, while sitting in White's Club (the only club of which the Prince of Wales is an active member), hears his daughter's name mentioned in a very odious manner, and that of the Prince of Wales occurs in the connection. The "Pwince," says one of these small wits, "is very devoted--ah--Lady Mowdaant--I heah," and so the scandal flies. Sir Thomas is enraged, threatens the puppy, and tells Sir Charles of the thunder in the air. Poor old man! It is openly stated in the club that Viscount Cole and Sir Frederick Johnstone,--the former twenty-two, and the latter thirty-two years of age, are constant visitors to her boudoir,--as often as three times in a day--so says Madame Scandal. Sir Frederick Johnstone is known to be the greatest libertine in England. He is rich, of a good family,