“Yours, “OLDBOROUGH.” In the course of the day the commissioner found out, by something Lord Oldborough _let fall_, what his lordship had no intention to conceal, that he had requested Mr. Percy to come to Clermont-park the next morning; and the commissioner promised himself that he would be in the way to see his good cousin Percy, and to satisfy his curiosity. But his manoeuvres and windings were, whenever it was necessary, counteracted and cut short by the unexpected directness and peremptory plain dealing of his patron. In the morning, towards the hour of twelve, the commissioner thought he had well begun a conversation that would draw out into length upon a topic which he knew must be interesting to his lordship, and he held in his hand private letters of great consequence from his son Cunningham; but Lord Oldborough, taking the letters, locked them up in his desk, saying, “To-night I will read them--this morning I have set apart for a conversation with Mr. Percy, whom I wish to see alone. In the mean time, my interest in the borough has been left too much to the care of that attorney Sharpe, of whom I have no great opinion. Will you be so good to ride over, as you promised me that you would, to the borough, and see what is doing there?” The commissioner endeavoured not to look disconcerted or discomfited, rang the bell for his horses, and took his leave, as Lord Oldborough had determined that he should, before the arrival of Mr. Percy, who came exactly at twelve. “I thank you for this punctuality, Mr. Percy,” said Lord Oldborough, advancing in his most gracious manner; and no two things could be more strikingly different than his gracious and ungracious manner. “I thank you for this kind punctuality. No one knows better than I do the difference between the visit of a friend and all other visits.” Without preface, Lord Oldborough always went directly to the point. “I have requested you to come to me, Mr. Percy, because I want from you two things, which I cannot have so much to my satisfaction from any other person as from you--assistance and sympathy. But, before I go to my own affairs, let me--and not by way of compliment, but plainly and truly--let me congratulate you, my dear sir, on the success of your sons, on the distinction and independence they have already acquired in their professions. I know the value of independence--of that which I shall never have,” added his lordship, with a forced smile and a deep sigh. “But let that be. It was not of that I meant to speak. You pursue your course; I, mine. Firmness of purpose I take to be the great difference between man and man. I am not one of those who habitually covet sympathy. It is a sign of a mind insufficient to its own support, to look for sympathy on every trivial occurrence; and on great occasions it has not been my good fortune to meet many persons who could sympathize with me.” “True,” said Mr. Percy, “people must think with you, before they can feel with you.”