Henry Augustus Tippetson was a gentleman of good family, but being a younger brother, and very indolent, was not likely to make any great figure in the world. He was of middle stature; very slender, very fair, very near-sighted when he happened to think of it; having flaxen hair and blue eyes; suspected, but unjustly, of using rouge; very expensive in his dress, and one of Delcroix’s best customers. He was not one of the archers, though he had once attempted to use a bow. He found that the exertion was too much for him, and he feared it might harden his hands. He expressed to Miss Sampson the same fears for her; but the young lady heeded not the apprehension. Lady Featherstone was very happy to see Miss Sampson so employed; but when her ladyship turned her attention to her own daughters and the gentleman whom she had seated by them, not all her powers of penetration could discover to which of the young ladies Philip Martindale was paying the greatest attention; and most of all was her mind disturbed by observing, that when he addressed himself either to one or the other, though it was with perfect politeness, it was with perfect indifference. The sports of the day were concluded by a ball, which resembled in every point every ball of the same character. There was the usual allowance of dancing, negus, nonsense, tossing of heads, sneering, quizzing, showing off, blundering, and all the rest of that kind of amusement. It enters not into our plan to dwell any longer on this festival. We must return to Brigland. CHAPTER IX. “For fame, (whose journies are through ways unknown, Traceless and swift and changeful as the wind,) The morn and Hurgonil had much outgone, While Truth mov’d patiently within behind.” DAVENANT. From Hovenden Lodge, Philip Martindale returned home; and after finding every thing as it should be at the Abbey, and arranging with the trusty Oliver concerning uniformity of narrative, he called upon the old gentleman at the cottage. There he underwent a long harangue on the folly of archery, and the silliness of Sir Andrew Featherstone, together with a desultory dissertation on the frivolity of the age in general. From which dissertation, it was to be inferred that old John Martindale was the only man living who had the least idea of propriety and wisdom of conduct.