ABSTRACT
Last night we went to a regular old Cornish cottage, and, oh, what a contrast between the splendid old hospitable cottager, who bubbled over with merry talk about the things he loved and about which he expected you to care for every bit as much, and the polished Mr. T., brother of Lord T., Rector, slim, young, dark, refined, lisping, elegant, and so perfectly smooth that you could find neither crevice nor peak in his character, though, of course, they may have been there.
