” Anna shook hands with Brendon—a young man also, but older and more selfpossessed than Sydney Courtlaw. People spoke of him everywhere as a young man of great promise, a politician by instinct, a keen and careful judge of character. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. Not so bad. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened. .
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