“That’s for the bill,” quoth he,--“Civil List!--a large item. That’s for Sophy, the darling! She shall have a teacher, and learn Music,--Education Grant; Current Expenses for the next fortnight; Miscellaneous Estimates; tobacco,--we’ll call that Secret-service Money. Ah, scamp, vagrant, is not Heaven kind to thee at last? A few more such nights, and who knows but thine old age may have other roof than the workhouse? And Sophy?--Ah, what of her? Merciful Providence, spare my life till she has outgrown its uses!” A tear came to his eye; he brushed it away quickly, and, recounting his money, hummed a joyous tune. The door opened; Waife looked up in surprise, sweeping his hand over the coins, and restoring them to his pocket. The Mayor entered. As Mr. Hartopp walked slowly up the room, his eye fixed Waife’s; and that eye was so searching, though so mild, that the Comedian felt himself change colour. His gay spirits fell,--falling lower and lower, the nearer the Mayor’s step came to him; and when Hartopp, without speaking, took his hand,--not in compliment, not in congratulation, but pressed it as if in deep compassion, still looking him full in the face, with those pitying, penetrating eyes, the actor experienced a sort of shock as if he were read through, despite all his histrionic disguises, read through to his heart’s core; and, as silent as his visitor, sank back in his chair,--abashed, disconcerted. MR. HARTOPP.--“Poor man!” THE COMEDIAN (rousing himself with an effort, but still confused).--“Down, Sir Isaac, down! This visit, Mr. Mayor, is an honour which may well take a dog by surprise! Forgive him!” MR. HARTOPP (patting Sir Isaac, who was inquisitively sniffing his garments, and drawing a chair close to the actor, who thereon edged his own chair a little away,--in vain; for, on that movement, Mr. Hartopp advanced in proportion).--“Your dog is a very admirable and clever animal; but in the exhibition of a learned dog there is something which tends to sadden one. By what privations has he been forced out of his natural ways? By what fastings and severe usage have his instincts been distorted into tricks? Hunger is a stern teacher, Mr. Chapman; and to those whom it teaches, we cannot always give praise unmixed with pity.” THE COMEDIAN (ill at ease under this allegorical tone, and surprised at a quicker intelligence in Mr. Hartopp than he had given that person credit for).--“You speak like an oracle, Mr. Mayor; but that dog, at least, has been mildly educated and kindly used. Inborn genius, sir, will have its vent. Hum! a most intelligent audience honoured us to-night; and our best thanks are due to you.”