“Oh!  I shall not remonstrate,” replied Lord Sherbrooke; “I never argue with my father.  In the first place, it would be undutiful and disrespectful, and I am the most dutiful of all sons; and in the next place, he generally somehow gets the better of me in argument—­the more completely the more wrong he is.  But, nevertheless, I can find means to drive him, if not to persuade him; to lead him, if not to convince him; and having had my own way from childhood up to the present hour—­alas! that I should say it, after having taken the way that I have taken—­I do not intend to give it up just now, so I will soon drive him to a different way with you, while you have no share in the matter, but that of merely suffering me to assume, at once, the character of an old friend, and not an insincere one.  On the latter point, indeed, you must believe me to be just as sincere as my father is insincere, for you very well know, Wilton, that, in this world of ours, it is much more by avoiding the faults than by following the virtues of our parents, that we get on in life.  Every fool can see where his father is a fool, and can take care not to be foolish in the same way; but it is a much more difficult thing to appreciate a father’s wisdom, and learn to be wise like him.”

“The latter, my lord, I should think, would be the nobler endeavour,” replied Wilton; “though I cannot say what would have been my own case, if I had ever had the happiness of knowing a father’s care.”

Lord Sherbrooke for a moment or two made no reply, but looked down upon the ground, apparently struck by the tone in which Wilton spoke.  He answered at length, however, raising his eyes with one of his gay looks, “After all, we are but mortals, my dear Wilton, and we must have our little follies and vices.  I would not be an angel for the world, for my part; and besides—­for so staid and sober a young man as you are—­you forget that I have a duty to perform towards my father, to check him when I see him going wrong, and to put him in the right way; to afford him, now and then, a little filial correction, and take care of his morals and his education.  Why, if he had not me to look after him, I do not know what would become of him.  However, I see,” he added in a graver tone, “that I must not jest with you, until you know me and understand me better.  What I mean is, that we are to be friends, remember.  It is all arranged between the Earl of Sunbury and myself.  We are to be friends, then; and such being the case, I will take care that my lord of Byerdale does not call my friend his clerk, nor treat him in any other manner than as my friend.  And now, Wilton, set about the matter as fast as ever you can.  There is my letter of recommendation from the Earl of Sunbury, which I hope will break down some barriers, the rest I must do for myself.  You will find me full of faults, full of follies, and full of vices; for though it may be a difficult thing to be full of three things