“Why, Sir Oracle, junior,” said Hycy, after his father had gone out, “or rather Solomon Secundus, if you are now an unfledged philosopher on our hand, what will you not be when your opinions are grown?” “My dear brother,” replied Edward, I cannot see what on earth you can propose to yourself by adopting this ridiculous style of conversation I cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex or annoy my father, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed at it. “Most sapiently said, Solomon Secundus-- “'Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout, And a ranting cavalier; And, when the civil war broke out, It quickly did appear That Solomon Lob was six feet high, And fit for a grenadier. So Solomon Lob march'd boldly forth To sounds of bugle horns And a weary march had Solomon Lob, For Solomon Lob had corns. Row,--ra--ra--row--de--dow.' “And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go on business of importance affecting--the welfare of the nation, or rather of the empire at large--embracing all these regions, antipodial and otherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore; and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copious exhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem!” “Where is he going, mother, do you know?” asked Edward. “Indeed I don't know, Edward,” she replied; “he seldom or never tells us anything about his motions; but it vexes me to think that his father won't make any allowance for his lightheartedness and fine spirits. Sure now, Edward, you know yourself it's not raisonable to have a young man like him mumpin' and mopin' about, as if there was a wake in the house?” The only reply Edward made to this weak and foolish speech was, “Yes; but there is reason in everything, my dear mother. I have heard,” he added, “that he is working for the Tory candidate, Vanston, and hope it is not true.” “Why,” said his mother, “what differ does it make?” “Why,” replied the other, “that Vanston votes to keep us slaves, and Chevydale to give us our political freedom: the one is opposed to our religion and our liberty, and the other votes for both.” “Troth, as to religion,” observed the mother, “the poor boy doesn't trouble his head much about it--bat it's not aisy for one that goes into jinteel society to do so--an' that's what makes Hycy ait mate of a Friday as fast as on any other day.” “I am sorry to hear that, mother,” replied Edward; “but Hycy is a very young man still, and will mend all these matters yet.” “And that's what I'm tellin' his father,” she replied; “and if you'd only see the way he looks at me, and puts a _cuir_ (* a grin--mostly of contempt) upon him so bitther that it would a'most take the skin off one.”