How it opens
You were Kenelm Chillingly, only son of a baronet and despair of a practical age, and you had made your peace with both by twelve.
Your father, Sir Peter, was a country gentleman of the old school, who believed in cattle, foxes, parliament, and the perfectibility of the Chillinglys.
Sir Peter ChillinglyThe boy is twenty-five, and has no profession, no passion, and no pony. I say nothing of the pony. But the other two, boy.
I have a passion, sir. It is observation, and it keeps me very busy, and the wage is understanding.
Sir Peter ChillinglyObservation! A Chillingly with a magnifying glass where his liver should be. Mrs. Chillingly, we have reared a naturalist.
Choose
Offer to take the church, since the living is in the family and the sermons write themselves.
Offer the army, which wants no convictions above the rank of colonel.
Offer to go into society, unprovided, and let society do its worst.