THE morning after these birthday rejoicings, Sir Peter and Lady Chillingly held a long consultation on the peculiarities of their heir, and the best mode of instilling into his mind the expediency either of entertaining more pleasing views, or at least of professing less unpopular sentiments; compatibly of course, though they did not say it, with the new ideas that were to govern his century.

Having come to an agreement on this delicate subject, they went forth, arm in arm, in search of their heir.

Kenelm seldom met them at breakfast.

He was an early riser, and accustomed to solitary rambles before his parents were out of bed.
The worthy pair found Kenelm seated on the banks of a trout-stream that meandered through Chillingly Park, dipping his line into the water, and yawning, with apparent relief in that operation.
"Does fishing amuse you, my boy ?" said Sir Peter, heartily.
"Not in the least, sir," answered Kenelm.
"Then why do you do it ?" asked Lady Chillingly.
"Because I know nothing else that amuses me more." "Ah! that is it," said Sir Peter: "the whole secret of Kenelm's oddities is to be found in these words, my dear; he needs amusement.

Voltaire says truly, 'Amusement is one of the wants of man.' And if Kenelm could be amused like other people, he would be like other people." "In that case," said Kenelm, gravely, and extracting from the water a small but lively trout, which settled itself in Lady Chillingly's lap,--"in that case I would rather not be amused.