"Very!--we need a war, an invasion,--something of the sort. It would put life into us, and rid us of a great deal of nonsense. You were born with a stimulus in yourself, and can stand this stagnant sort of existence; but I need something more lively." "Then go with me on my next journey." "Are you thinking of another already? Rest in peace, and thank Heaven that you have come home in a whole skin." "I have done the North American continent; but there are four more left, not to mention the islands." "And you mean to see them all?" "Certainly." "Your science is a convenient hobby. It carries you wherever you fancy to go." "You could not do better than go with me." "I know it; but, if wishes were horses---- I am training Dick to take my place. I am a model elder brother to that youngster in the way of cultivating his mind and morals; and when I have him up to the mark, I shall gain a year's furlough for my pains. But when is your next journey to begin--next week?" "No, I mean to pin myself down here, and dig like a mole, for the next ten months, at least." "If I had not had ocular proof of what a determined dig you can be, I should set down your studies as mere humbug." "But I wish to hear the news." "I would tell it willingly, if I knew any." "Have the Primroses come home from Europe yet?" "Yes." "And the Everills?" "I believe not." "Nor the Leslies, I suppose." "For a reasonably sensible and straightforward fellow, you have a queer way of making inquiries. You question like a lady's letter, with the pith in the postscript. You ask after the Primroses and the Everills, a stupid, priggish set, for whom you care nothing, as earnestly as if you were in love with them, and then grow indifferent when you come to the Leslies, whom you like." "Did I?" said Morton, in some discomposure; "I ask their pardon. Have they come home?" "Not yet, but I believe they mean to come as soon as they have staid their year out." "And that will be very soon--early in the spring, or sooner." "Now I think of it, I made the acquaintance, a few evenings ago, of a person who, I believe, is a relation or connection of yours--Miss Fanny Euston." "O, yes, she is my third, fourth, or fifth cousin, or something of that sort; but I have not seen her since she was ten years old. She was a great romp, then, and very plain." "That last failing is cured. She has grown very handsome." "The first failing ought to be cured, too, by this time." "I am not so clear on that point. She is a girl with an abundance of education, and a good deal of a certain kind of accomplishment--music, and so on--but no breeding at all. If she had had the training of good society, she would have been one of a thousand. As it is she cares for nobody, and does and says whatever comes into her mind, without the least regard to consequences or appearances." "Does she affect naturalness, independence, and all that?"