The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. I said I hadn’t been at the Royal Society soiree for four years, and got him to tell me about some of the fresh Mendelian work. No, don’t interrupt me. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass.
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