"I was then on one of my occasional visits to Lindisfarne. But on my return next day, the whole was told me by Mrs. Coningsby. Full of horror at the relation, I gave instant orders for our departure; and was passing along the gallery before the servants, who were supporting the suffering child to the carriage, when I encountered my graceless nephew. "Anthony!" cried I, in the burst of my indignation; "you have committed an outrage against the morals and life of this innocent child, that will cry against you at the gates of Eternal Justice!" Sir Anthony stood confounded; but Duke Wharton, who was just at his back, with affected solemnity, exclaimed--"It is a prophet who speaks!--Let us take care that in to-morrow's hunt, the foxes do not ape the bears of old, and turn upon and rend us!"--The sarcasm of the young libertine, and his irreverent allusion to Scripture, recalled me to a sense of my own unrestrained violence; and turning again to my nephew with a more collected manner, "Sir Anthony, (said I) I do not reply to your companion; having no hope that human reasoning can make any good impression on a mind which studies revelation only to use it to blasphemy. But for you, the son of a virtuous father, and a pious mother!--Recall to your remembrance their happy lives, their honourable reputations, and their blessed deaths! And, notwithstanding all your wit, your merriment, and your splendour, your heart will whisper, that in comparison with them, you are wretched, despised, and now stand on the brink of everlasting perdition!" Sir Anthony remained silent and confused; but the hardened Duke, making me a gay bow, put his arm through the Baronet's, and with a jerk turned him into the billiard-room.