“Let us not discuss that,” said Lord Castlereagh, quickly. “There is an objection in a high quarter to bestow honors, which would seem to ratify the downfall of an ancient house.” He seemed to have said more than he was ready to admit, and to change the theme turned the conversation on the party they had just quitted. “Sir George Hannaper always does these things well.” Mr. Heffernan assented blandly, but not over eagerly. London was not “_his_ world,” and the tone of a society so very different to what he was habituated had not made on him the most favorable impression. “And after all,” said Lord Castlereagh, musingly, “there is a great deal of tact--ability, if you will--essential to the success of such entertainments, to bring together men of different classes and shades of opinion, people who have never met before, perhaps are never to meet again, to hit upon the subjects of conversation that may prove generally interesting, without the risk of giving undue preponderance to any one individual's claims to superior knowledge. This demands considerable skill.” “Perhaps the difficulty is not so great _here_, my Lord,” said Heffernan, half timidly, “each man understands his part so well; information and conversational power appear tolerably equally distributed; and when all the instruments are so well tuned, the leader of the orchestra has an easy task.” “Ah! I believe I comprehend you,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing; “you are covertly sneering at the easy and unexciting quietude of our London habits. Well, Heffernan, I admit we are not so fond of solo performances as you are in Dublin; few among us venture on those 'obligate passages' which are so charming to Irish ears; but don't you think the concerted pieces are better performed?” “I believe, my Lord,” said Heffernan, abandoning the figure in his anxiety to reply, “that we would call this dull in Ireland. I 'm afraid that we are barbarous enough to set more store by wit and pleasantry than on grave discussion and shrewd table-talk. It appears to me that these gentlemen carry an air of business into their conviviality.” “Scarcely so dangerous an error as to carry conviviality into business,” said Lord Castlereagh, slyly. “There's too much holding back,” said Heffernan, not heeding the taunt; “each man seems bent on making what jockeys call 'a waiting race.'” “Confess, however,” said Lord Castlereagh, smiling, “there 's no struggle, no hustling at the winning-post: the best horse comes in first---” “Upon my soul, my Lord,” said Heffernan, interrupting, “I have yet to learn that there is such a thing. I conclude from your Lordship's observation that the company we met to-day were above the ordinary run of agreeability.” “I should certainly say so.”