Having thus curtailed the Report, I print the remainder in an Appendix, for the use of those few readers who can endure useful knowledge in works of this class. Raby read the report without moving a muscle. “Well, what do you think of him?” asked Amboyne. “I think he is a fool to trouble his head whether these animals live or die.” “Oh, that is my folly; not his. At bottom, he cares no more than you do.” “Then I retract my observation.” “As to its being folly, or as to Little being the fool?” “Whichever you like best.” “Thank you. Well, but to be serious, this young man is very anxious to be a master, instead of a man. What do you say? Will you help his ambition, and my sacred hobby?” “What, plunge you deeper in folly, and him in trade? Not I. I don't approve folly, I hate trade. But I tell you what I'll do. If he and his mother can see my conduct in its proper light, and say so, they can come to Raby, and he can turn gentleman, take the name of Raby, as he has got the face, and be my heir.” “Are you serious, Raby?” “Perfectly.” “Then you had better write it, and I'll take it to him.” “Certainly.” He sat down and wrote as follows: “SIR,--What has recently occurred appears calculated to soften one of those animosities which, between persons allied in blood, are always to be regretted. I take the opportunity to say, that if your mother, under your advice, will now reconsider the duties of a trustee, and my conduct in that character, and her remarks on that conduct, I think she will do me justice, and honor me once more with her esteem. Should this be the result, I further hope that she and yourself will come to Raby, and that you will change that way of life which you have found so full of thorns, and prepare yourself to succeed to my name and place. I am, your obedient servant, “GUY RABY.” “There read that.” Amboyne read it, and approved it. Then he gave a sigh, and said, “And so down goes my poor hobby.” “Oh, never mind,” said Raby; “you've got one or two left in your stable.” Dr. Amboyne went out, and passed through the hall. There he found Mr. Coventry and Miss Carden: the latter asked him, rather keenly, if the conference was over. “Yes, and not without a result: I'll read it to you.” He did so, and Grace's cheek was dyed with blushes, and her eyes beamed with joy. “Oh, how noble is, and how good you are. Run! Fly!” “Such movements are undignified, and unsuited to my figure. Shall I roll down the hill? That would be my quickest way.” This discussion was cut short by a servant, who came to tell the doctor that a carriage was ordered for him, and would be round in a minute. Dr. Amboyne drove off, and Miss Carden now avoided Coventry: she retired to her room. But, it seems, she was on the watch; for, on the doctor's return, she was the person who met him in the hall. “Well?” said she, eagerly. “Well, would you believe it? he declines. He objects to leave his way of life, and to wait for dead men's shoes.”