“Faith! I did it from spirit, pure spirit,” said Buckhurst: “I could not stand by, and see one who had been my schoolfellow horsewhipped--if he did not stand by himself, _yet_ I could not but stand by _him_, for you know I was there as one of his party--and as I backed his bets on High-Blood, I could do no less than back his cause altogether.--Oh! I could not stand by and see _a chum_ of my own horsewhipped.” “Well, that was all very spirited and generous; but now, as you are something too old for mere schoolboy notions,” said the commissioner, “let us look a little farther, and see what we can make of it. It’s only a silly boyish thing as you consider it; but I hope we can turn it to good account.” “I never thought of turning it to account, sir.” “Think of it now,” said the father, a little provoked by the careless disinterestedness of the son. “In plain English, here is a colonel in his majesty’s service saved from a horsewhipping--a whole noble family saved from disgrace: these are things not to be forgotten; that is, not to be forgotten, if you force people to remember them: otherwise--my word for it--I know the great--the whole would be forgotten in a week. Therefore, leave me to follow the thing up properly with the uncle, and do you never let it sleep with the nephew: sometimes a bold stroke, sometimes a delicate touch, just as the occasion serves, or as may suit the company present--all that I trust to your own address and judgment.” “Trust nothing, sir, to my address or judgment; for in these things I have neither. I always act just from impulse and feeling, right or wrong--I have no talents for _finesse_--leave them all to Cunningham--that’s his trade, and he likes it, luckily: and you should be content with having one such genius in your family--no family could bear two.” “Come, come, pray be serious, Buckhurst. If you have not or will not use any common sense and address to advance yourself, leave that to me. You see how I have pushed up Cunningham already, and all I ask of you is to be quiet, and let me push you up.” “Oh! dear sir, I am very much obliged to you: if that is all, I will be quite quiet--so that I am not to do any thing shabby or dirty for it. I should be vastly glad to get a good place, and be provided for handsomely.” “No doubt; and let me tell you that many I could name have, with inferior claims, and without any natural connexion or relationship, from the mere favour of proper friends, obtained church benefices of much greater value than the living we have in our eye: you know--” “I do not know, indeed,” said Buckhurst; “I protest I have no living in my eye.” “What! not know that the living of Chipping-Friars is in the gift of Colonel Hauton--and the present incumbent has had one paralytic stroke already. There’s a prospect for you, Buckhurst!” “To be frank with you, sir, I have no taste for the church.” “No taste for nine hundred a year, Buckhurst? No desire for fortune, Mr. Philosopher?”