Having passed his period of storm and stress without committing any of those follies or indulging in any of those excesses by which the parents of ordinary young men are afflicted, he will arrive without reproach at the borders of an apparently blameless middle age, and, finding himself after the death of his father, in the enjoyment of a settled income of considerable size, he will set up in life as an acknowledged amateur of all that is truly precious. In order that nothing may be wanting to him for the proper pursuit of this calling, he will gather round him a little band of boneless enthusiasts, who after paying due devotion to themselves, and to one another, will join him in worshipping the dead or living nonentities whose laurelled photographs adorn his rooms. He will cover his couches with soft silks, his walls will be hung with impressionist etchings and engravings of undraped ladies of French origin, _terra-cotta_ statuettes principally of the young Apollo, will be placed in every corner, and a marble bust of the young AUGUSTUS will occupy the place of honour next to the grand piano, on which, will be ranged the framed cabinet photographs of interesting young men. Each photograph will bear upon it an appropriate inscription, announcing it to be, for instance, a gift "From BOBBY to TODDLEKINS." Nothing more is necessary for the perfect life of dilettantism, except to settle an afternoon for tea, and an evening for music. When this is done the Dilettante is complete. It is curious, however, that although he aims at being considered a poet, an artist, a dramatist, and a musical composer, the Dilettante rather affects the society of those who are amateurs of imperfect development, than of those who have attained fame by professional effort. Yet since his nature is tolerant, he does not exclude the latter from the scope of his benevolence, and they may occasionally be seen at his parties, wondering how so strange a medley of second-rate incompetencies can have been gathered together into one room.