One song--the despair of professional composers.

One picture--just to show how easily a gentleman can take up an art and drop it again.

A really multiform man, with all the graces and all the accomplishments scintillating perpetually at his fingers' ends.

If these poor pages have achieved nothing else, they have done a service to persons not in society by presenting them to Sweetsir.

In his gracious company the narrative brightens; and writer and reader (catching reflected brilliancy) understand each other at last, thanks to Sweetsir.
"Well," said Lady Lydiard, "now you are here, what have you got to say for yourself?
You have been abroad, of course! Where ?" "Principally at Paris, my dear aunt.