Harry Thorsby was fond of his horse, and followed the hunt. He might often be seen during the season, in his scarlet coat riding out of town on a fine morning to the meet of the day, looking very gallant and happy; and grave fellow-manufacturers as they passed to their warehouses, while they nodded and smiled in passing, said to themselves,—“Thorsby will be Thorsby; what is bred in the bone will never be out of the flesh. Harry, like his father, finds something pleasanter than his counting-house.” But, exclusive of this taste for hunting, and for shooting, which was equally a passion of his, Harry Thorsby was a good tradesman, and a steady attendant on his counting-house and warehouse and business altogether. Business over, however, he was much in the company of the young men of position in the town. He was an extremely merry, amusing fellow in company; told an anecdote well, and sung fairly. His nature seemed to demand life and variety. He was extremely excitable, but not to anger,—for he was extremely forbearing under provocation; his tendency was to pleasure, fun—what is termed larking—and to all the jollity of youth. One of these larks he often was very merry over amongst his intimate friends. He and his mother often breakfasted at a small round table, and the breakfast was brought in on a circular-turned mahogany tray, which had grown rather rotund at the bottom so that it would easily turn round on the table. His mother being very fond of a gossip, and having always a great deal to tell him in his _tête-à-tête_, had scarcely began her coffee when Harry had despatched his first cup; unperceived, therefore, he would gently turn the tray round, finish her cup too, and then remind her that both were empty. This process went on to the end of Harry’s three cups, when he would spring up and say he must be off to business. “I hope you’ve made a good breakfast, Harry,” his mother would say, rising at the same time; “as for me, I don’t know how it is, but I feel neither fuller nor fatter.” Harry went laughing slily to himself away, saying, “Well, mother, you have been amusing me with your talk so much, you don’t know whether you have breakfasted or not. Get some more. You’re never wrong if you eat till you are satisfied.” And the old lady would say, “Well, my lad, I think I must, for I feel quite sinking.” And he would leave her wondering how it was, but pouring comfortably out another cup.