How different is the human mind, according to the difference of place. In our passions, as in our creeds, we are the mere dependents of geographical situation. Nay, the trifling variation of a single mile will revolutionize the whole tides and torrents of our hearts. The man who is meek, generous, benevolent, and kind in the country, enters the scene of contest, and becomes forthwith fiery or mean, selfish or stern, just as if the virtues were only for solitude, and the vices for the city. I have ill expressed the above reflection; n’importe--so much the better shall I explain my feelings at the time I speak of--for I was then too eager and engrossed to attend to the niceties of words. On my arrival at Mivart’s, I scarcely allowed myself time to change my dress before I set out to Lord Dawton. He shall afford me an explanation, I thought, or a recompence, or a revenge. I knocked at the door--the minister was out. “Give him this card,” said I, haughtily, to the porter, “and say I shall call to-morrow at three.” I walked to Brookes’s--there I met Mr. V--. My acquaintance with him was small, but he was a man of talent, and, what was more to my purpose, of open manners. I went up to him, and we entered into conversation. “Is it true,” said I; “that I am to congratulate you upon the certainty of your return for Lord Dawton’s borough of--?” “I believe so,” replied V--. “Lord Dawton engaged it to me last week, and Mr. H--, the present member, has accepted the Chiltern Hundreds. You know all our family support Lord Dawton warmly on the present crisis, and my return for this borough was materially insisted upon. Such things are, you see, Mr. Pelham, even in these virtuous days of parliamentary purity.” “True,” said I, dissembling my chagrin, “yourself and Dawton have made an admirable exchange. Think you the ministry can be said to be fairly seated?” “By no means; every thing depends upon the motion of--, brought on next week. Dawton looks to that as to the decisive battle for this session.” Lord Gavelton now joined us, and I sauntered away with the utmost (seeming) indifference. At the top of St. James’s-street, Lady Roseville’s well known carriage passed me--she stopped for a moment. “We shall meet at the Duke of--‘s to-night,” said she, “shall we not?” “If you go--certainly,” I replied. I went home to my solitary apartment, and if I suffered somewhat of the torments of baffled hope and foiled ambition, the pang is not for the spectator. My lighter moments are for the world--my deeper for myself; and, like the Spartan boy, I would keep, even in the pangs of death, a mantle over the teeth and fangs which are fastening upon my breast. CHAPTER LXXI. Nocet empta dolore voluptas.--Ovid.