Harley had drawn a shilling from his pocket; but Virtue bade him consider on whom he was going to bestow it.  Virtue held back his arm; but a milder form, a younger sister of Virtue’s, not so severe as Virtue, nor so serious as Pity, smiled upon him; his fingers lost their compression, nor did Virtue offer to catch the money as it fell.  It had no sooner reached the ground than the watchful cur (a trick he had been taught) snapped it up, and, contrary to the most approved method of stewardship, delivered it immediately into the hands of his master.

Chapter XIX—­he makes A second expedition to the baronet’s.  The laudable ambition of A young man to be thought something by the world

We have related, in a former chapter, the little success of his first visit to the great man, for whom he had the introductory letter from Mr. Walton.  To people of equal sensibility, the influence of those trifles we mentioned on his deportment will not appear surprising, but to his friends in the country they could not be stated, nor would they have allowed them any place in the account.  In some of their letters, therefore, which he received soon after, they expressed their surprise at his not having been more urgent in his application, and again recommended the blushless assiduity of successful merit.

He resolved to make another attempt at the baronet’s; fortified with higher notions of his own dignity, and with less apprehension of repulse.  In his way to Grosvenor Square he began to ruminate on the folly of mankind, who affixed those ideas of superiority to riches, which reduced the minds of men, by nature equal with the more fortunate, to that sort of servility which he felt in his own.  By the time he had reached the Square, and was walking along the pavement which led to the baronet’s, he had brought his reasoning on the subject to such a point, that the conclusion, by every rule of logic, should have led him to a thorough indifference in his approaches to a fellow-mortal, whether that fellow-mortal was possessed of six or six thousand pounds a year.  It is probable, however, that the premises had been improperly formed:  for it is certain, that when he approached the great man’s door he felt his heart agitated by an unusual pulsation.

He had almost reached it, when he observed among gentleman coming out, dressed in a white frock and a red laced waistcoat, with a small switch in his hand, which he seemed to manage with a particular good grace.  As he passed him on the steps, the stranger very politely made him a bow, which Harley returned, though he could not remember ever having seen him before.  He asked Harley, in the same civil manner, if he was going to wait on his friend the baronet.  “For I was just calling,” said he, “and am sorry to find that he is gone for some days into the country.”