The younger Markham was about to speak, but Mr. Martindale waited not for a reply. He proceeded to make more minute inquiries concerning the illness of Mr. Markham the elder; but was not patient enough to wait for distinct and separate answers. When a person in high spirits and of natural hastiness of manner enters into any thing of a conversation with others who are not in high spirits, he does not immediately notice the contrast, for the loud crowing of his own voice is for a time a reflection of his own cheerful thoughts; but even vivacity needs sympathy to support it, and cannot long exist without. And when the first rush of hasty greeting is over, then it is seen and felt that the vivacity is not mutual, and then the cheerfulness abates. So fared it with Mr. Martindale, who was for his years a man of astonishing vivacity and activity. He soon perceived that there was a depression of spirits in the family, and he rebuked himself for the almost levity of manner with which he had addressed them. He then went on to talk common-place, and took an opportunity of hinting to Horatio that it would be proper for him to pay a little more homage to his patron. The mention of this brought some observations from Mrs. Markham, acknowledging Mr. Martindale’s kindness in taking notice of her son. “Madam,” replied the old gentleman, “I think it an honor to have your son’s acquaintance; and I wish he would not be quite so diffident of himself. He is in the way to preferment; but he must not forget that though such men as his noble patron may be ready enough to reward merit, they have no time to hunt about for it.” Mrs. Markham had, as we have observed, a degree of pride, and being the mother of a son who was a young man of rather superior understanding, she supposed that he was far above all the rest of the world, and must make his way by dint of his own natural talents: therefore, as if she imagined that her son required and needed no other patronage than the power of his own mind, she replied, “I feel very highly gratified, sir, by the kindness which my son has experienced from you, but I wish that his success in the world may be rather owing to his own merit than to patronage.” “Madam,” replied Mr. Martindale, “your notions are very good for the country; but London is a very large place, and those who have talents must advertise them by some means or other. I am an old man, I have seen something of the world, and I can tell you what I have seen; I have seen talents lost, ruined, buried alive, rendered useless, ay, worse than useless, a very torment to their possessors, because they have had a pragmatical conceit that they must be independent of patronage. Excuse me, my good lady, I am an oddity I know. Now let me ask you one question. If you wished to go to the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral, which way would you go?” Mrs. Markham smiled at the oddness of the illustration, and replied, “Of course, sir, I should go the usual way up the stairs.”