mier pas qui coute—the difficulty is to commence the accumulation, but, the first little heap laid by, and then begin to think of your thousands and tens of thousands—they will come in time. Lord Penrhyn had no near relations, and no children. How civil people were to him, and how many onward-looking hopes were based on that civility! The only near connexion was his wife's brother, Charles Penrhyn, and for him he had procured a place in the Foreign Office, as he meant, some time or other, to push him forward in the diplomatic line. But Lord Penrhyn disliked using his influence, not from that honourable spirit of independence which shrinks from undue obligation, but out of sheer selfishness, which dreads lest it should be called upon to make a return.
Lady Penrhyn cared little about her brother; he was sometimes useful, and sometimes in the way. Handsome and gentlemanlike, he was rather a credit to her than otherwise; he had between three or four hundred a year, his club, his cab, and the run of her house—what could he want more! That he could desire home, independence, or a sphere for the exertion of what ability and industry he might possess, crossed her mind as little as it did that of her husband. Every one considers the world as made especially for their own purposes: Archimedes only desired to see how far he could raise it by means of lever and screw; Sir Godfrey Kneller thought that the human race were only created to be painted; while Talma could only
