The Argosy — page 262: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Lady Grace. 243 did not live as a hermit. It all takes money. Cyras? What of Cyras P Cyras had given trouble Was it likely to be otherwise? It had always been the Dean’s intention that Cyras should follow his own calling, the Church. Cyras knew this, but had not objected, although never intending to fall in with it. Make a parson of him! Dress him up in a black coat and a white choker! the youngster was wont to say behind the Dean’s back. No! MHe’d rather go in for the clownship at Astley’s ; rather be a jockey at Newmarket ; rather hew timber in the backwoods of America; rather perch himself on a three-legged stool at a dark desk in a city office—yes, even that. None of the fellows who went in for those things need have a con- science; but a parson must have one; so he’d leave the Church to those who liked consciences. This treason was reported to the Dean, and he ordered Cyras before him, and administered a stern rebuke. But he could make no impression upon him. Cyras argued the matter out; he was not insolent, but he was persistent ; he had not grown less independently reckless with his advancing years. Reckless, that is to say, of other people’s opinions when they clashed with his own. Though, in spite of the Dean’s reproaches to the contrary, the objection to enter the Church proved Cyras not to be so totally devoid of thought as his father assured him he was. Cyras was eighteen then, and was to have gone to college in the autumn. ‘Tt won’t be of any use my going to Oxford, papa,” the handsome young fellow urged. ‘‘To send me there would be waste of time and money. I have quite as much learning as I shall ever want. Make Charley into a parson instead of me; it won’t go against “zs conscience.” “You know, Cyras, that Charles has set his heart upon the bar.” And a very good calling too,” rejoined Cyras, equably. ‘‘ You are in the Church yourself, papa—one of its shining lights, you know ; but that’s no reason why you should force a son into it.” ‘What is to become of you, Cyras P” “Of me?r—oh, anything. What I wanted was to have a commission bought for me in the army, but———” ‘‘T have explained to you that I could not afford it,” interrupted the Dean, with some agitation, for it brought before him the vexatious state of his finances. ‘‘ Would you wish to remain a burden upon me, Cyras? Do you expect me to keep you for ever ?” “Not a bit of it, father,” said Cyras, heartily. ‘‘I’d rather make money myself, and keep you.” The Dean could hardly forbear a smile. * How would you make it ?” he asked. ““Oh, go out to the gold diggings and dig it up—something or other of that sort.” Don’t talk recklessly,” reproved the Dean. COM ) nOOl|KS.CO