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talk was often above my comprehension, still some- On entering the town, we stopped again at a how I felt happier and better, and less of an infant, china-warehouse. when I thought over it, and tried to puzzle out the “ Have you a flower-pot like that I bought some meaning; for he had a way of suggesting, not months ago ? Ah, here is one marked 3s. 6d. Yes, teaching; putting things into my head, and then that is the price. Well, when your mamma's birthleaving them to work out their own problems. I day comes again, we must buy her another. That remember a special instance with respect to that is some months to wait. And we can wait, Master same flower-pot and geranium. Mr. Squills, who Sisty. For truth, that blooms all the year round, was a bachelor, and well to do in the world, often is better than a poor geranium; and a word that is made me little presents. Not long after the event never broken is hetter than a piece of delf.” I have narrated, he gave me one far exceeding in My head, which had drooped before, rose again ; value those usually bestowed on children ; it was but the rush of joy at my heart almost stifled me. a beautiful large domino-box in cut ivory, painted “ I have called to pay your little bill," said my and gilt. This domino-box, was my delight. I father, entering the shop of one of those fancy stawas never weary of playing at dominoes with Mrs. tioners common in country towns, and who sell all Primmins, and I slept with the box under my pil- kinds of pretty toys and nicknacks ; " and, by the low.

way,” he added, as the smiling shopman looked “Ah,” said my father, one day when he found over his books for the entry, “I think my litle boy me ranging the ivory parallelograms in the parlor here can show you a much handsomer specimen of --"ah, you like that better than all your play- French workmanship than that workbox which things, eh?”

you enticed Mrs. Caxton into raffling for last • Oh, yes, papa."

winter. Show your domino-box, my dear.” “ You would be very sorry if your mamma was I produced my treasure, and the shopman was to throw that box out of the window, and break it liberal in his commendations. “It is always well, for fun?” I looked beseechingly at my father and my boy, to know what a thing is worth, in case made no answer.

one wishes to part with it. If my young gentle“ But, perhaps, you would be very glad,” he man gets tired of his plaything, what will you give resumed, if suddenly one of those good fairies him for it?” you read of could change the domino-box into a “ Why, sir,” said the shopman, " I fear we beautiful geranium, in a beautiful blue-and-white could not afford to give more than eighteen shilflower-pot, and that you could have all the pleasure lings for it, unless the young gentleman took some of putting it on your mamma's window-sill?" of these pretty things in exchange." * Indeed I would !” said I, half crying.

“Eighteen shillings !” said my father. “You 'My dear boy, I believe you ; but good wishes would give that? Well, my boy, whenever you do don't mend bad actions ; good actions mend bad grow tired of your box, you have my leave to sell actions."

So saying, he shut the door and went out. I My father paid his bill and went out. I lingered cannot tell you how puzzled I was to make out behind a few moments, and joined him at the end what my father meant by his aphorism. But I of the street. know that I played at dominoes no more that day. “Papa, papa!" I cried, clapping my hands, “ we The next morning my father found me seated by can buy the geranium—we can buy the flowermyself, under a tree in the garden ; he paused and pot," and I pulled a handful of silver from my looked at me with his grave bright eyes very pockets, steadily.

“ Did I not say right?" said my father, passing “ My boy,” said he, “ I am going to walk to his handkerchief over his eyes. " You have found

(a town about two miles off,) will you come? the two fairies !!! and, by the bye, fetch your domino-box ; I should Oh, how proud, how overjoyed I was when, after like to show it to a person there."

placing vase and flower on the window-sill, I I ran in for the box, and, not a little proud of plucked my mother by the gown, and made her walking with my father upon the high-road, we follow me to the spot ! set out.

“ It is his doing and his money!” said my “Papa,” said I by the way, “there are no father ; “good actions have mended the bad.” fairies now.”

“ What!” cried my mother, when she had “What then, my child ?!!

learned all, “ and your poor domino-box that you “Why, how then can my domino-box be were so fond of! We will go back to-morrow and changed into a geranium and a blue-and-white buy it back, if it costs us double.” flower-pot ?"

* Shall we buy it back, Pisistratus ?”' asked my “My dear,” said my father, leaning his hand on father. my shoulder," everybody who is in earnest to be Oh, no, no, no! it would spoil all!” I cried, good, carries two fairies about with him; one burying my face on my father's breast. here," and he touched my heart; “ and one here,” " My wife," said my father, solemnly, “ this is and he touched my forehead.

my first lesson to our child, the sanctity and the “ I don't understand, papa.

happiness of self-sacrifice; undo not what it should “I can wait till you do, Pisistratus. What a teach to his dying day.”

And this is the history of the broken flower-pot. My father stopped at a nursery gardener's, and, -Vol. i., p. 28. after looking over the flowers, paused before a large double geranium.

Ah!” says Mrs. Grundy, “ so that 's the part "Ah, this is finer than that which your mamma you admire?' A barefaced imitation of Sterne, was so fond of. What is the cost, sir?” “Only 7s. 6d.," said the gardener.

with a dash of Rousseau's Emile!(It is wonMy father buttoned up his pocket.

derful, by the bye, how the old lady, when she “ I can't afford it to-day," said he, gently, and gets vituperative, confesses to having read all we walked out.

manner of objectionable books, which she usually


proscribes throughout Christendom.) “I read all was the German's pis aller in youth, his idol in chat; and it 's Tristram Shandy over again.

Mr. old age.

We in England have no notion what a Caxton is Mr. Shandy; Uncle Roland, Uncle learned man is. It was but the other day, in Toby ; Squills is Slop; Primmins is Susanna ; three* little tracts on Ethnology, read before the the story of Pisistratus' naming copied all but British Association, we found evidences of reword for word. I really got quite frightened, and search and thought, such as we would challenge thought we were going to have the window-scene any dozen Englishmen to equal, on subjects of next. So you had, my dear madam. You seem which we English know next to nothing: and of to recollect Sterne's. We had just given you Sir these three little gems of wisdom, one was writ E. B. Lytton's, or the outcome of itrather an ten by the Prussian ambassador, with the cares of improvement, as we take it, even according to Europe on his shoulders ; and the other two, if Grundean canons.

we understand rightly, by men under thirty years Besides, madam, do you suppose that Sir E. B. of age. We felt “ very small" after the perusal Lytton did not know that he was imitating; and of that pamphlet; and we recommend it to Sir that you, or at least your father-confessors, the E. B. Lytton, if he wishes to produce on himself reviewers, would know it too? And do you sup- the same wholesome sensation. Not that we pose he meant nothing by imitating Sterne? Englishmen need be so unspeakably learned ; we What he meant we cannot tell, and do not greatly have to do, rather than to read. Our best scholars, care, having several other more important matters such as they are, vanish into the bar, the senate, to get settled. But we do think that an imitation or the ministry; and from amid the turmoil of is justifiable, exactly in proportion as it is bare- active life look back on “the crooked letters" as faced. Who complains of “ The Doctor” for bor- the preludia of their callow youth, to be classed in rowing from Rabelais ? He takes care to let you the same category with pocket-money and boatknow his lender, and so does Sir E. B. L. If he races. The only thing on which Englishmen ever had stolen from Sterne, as Sterne is said to have become pedants is physical science ; and we will stolen from Montaigne-as everybody who dared venture to say, that if Mr. Caxton had possessed a for three hundred years has been stealing from shell of substantial English flesh and blood, he Rabelais, just because the poor dear physician would have been bothering his head, not with was “under a cloud" for loose conduct, and Procopius and Polyænus, but with Cuvier and therefore they fancied that they should not be Lyell, Owen and Faraday; he would have blown found out- why, then he would have been a rogue, hiinself up twice a week with his own retorts ; as Sterne and others are. But when, for instance, driven Primmins dyspeptic with fiendish smells ; he was writing that pretty scene between Pisistra- carried galvanic wires through his bedroom, like tus and the Savoyard among the graves, he in- Mr. Crosse, to the perpetual terror of Mrs. Caxton ; tended you to see that he could out-write the known the taste of every inch of soil for miles Sentimental Journey, as he has done. Surely, if round, like the Dean of Westminster ; and earned a man may write ludicrous parodies, which are the reputation of a wizard from the country-people. worse than their antitypes, why not serious ones, As he stands, he is an exotic—a clothes-horse, which are better?

we are afraid, whereon Sir E. B. L. may display We don't deny that we have our own private certain rags of his own learning. protest to put in against this imitation of Sterne ; Rags? That is a hard word. But it was not but, as we said at the beginning of our review, if used merely for the sake of carrying out the figure. we grumble, Mrs. Grundy shan't. We ourselves In the first place, we hope, and are bound to cannot help thinking, that while Sir E. B. L. believe, that the learning of The Cartons are only was copying Sterne, he should not have copied the rags of Sir E. B. Lytton's reading—mere him in the character of Mr. Caxton. Whether shreds and tatters, road-sides and waste-corners, there were such men in Sterne's time or not, there compared with the vast continuous fields of science are none such now in England. Mr. C. is cer- and history which lie still behind in his intellectainly a far higher type of man than Mr. Shan-tual manors :—that is complimentary enough, we dy—a wise, noble-hearted gentleman, quiet and hope! In the next plaee, there is something strong, lovable and admirable, profitable for these ragged, in a less complimentary sense, about The or any times. But-but—"Non extat""Non Carton quotations. " He has been at the feast est istwentus," as Mr. Lively says, in somewhat of learning, and brought away the scraps." Bulwerean Latin. If ever he inhabited England, Doubtless Sir E. B. L. has read extensively, and he has become extinct, and retreated, like the digested more or less ; of which latter process spoonbill, to the interior of Germany. We do not there are more hopeful symptoms in the present breed pedants, or scholars either. Mr. Caxton is novel than in any former one, though Night and bona fide a German ideal, even to his contempla- Morning certainly showed signs of greater tive placidity--not an English one at all. Such pepsia.” But in Harold, on the contrary, one men, we hear, do exist, and very noble specimens of the very latest, the indigestion was truly of them too, across the Rhine. They have time piteous. The author had, by his own confession to become book-eaters—they were forced to become such. Till the last year Germany offered

* Three Linguistic Dissertations. By Chevalier Bun.

sen, Dr. C. Meyer, and Dr. Max. Müller. 1848. Tay. no field in political or practical life. Learning ) lor, Fleet street.


in the preface, been overgorging himself with There is no doubt, as we said before, that Sir Anglo-Saxon at some hospitable country-house ; E. B. Lytton is an extensive reader, and a vigo and then, without giving the crude elements time rous and comprehensive thinker. But yet we do to get eliminated, or assimilated, or anything else, not like the general style of his quotations : they but mechanically bolted down, Harold was forth- are dragged in ostentatiously, in great lumps and with written off, and the Anglo-Saxon “ egested," patches—too like the quotations in The Doctor ; just as it had been swallowed, wighs, and thegns, and what was allowable in a serio-comic cento and weregelds, and mancuses, and all, very much like that book, is by no means so in a regularly as the bird of Minerva casts sparrows' bones plotted novel like The Caxtons. The erudition and field-mice, fur. There is one comfort—Sir of the true scholar is assimilated to himself; it E. B. L. must have felt “ so much better after saturates, as it were, all his utterances, not merely it!" And yet the Anglo-Saxon scholars say the running through them here and there as veins of book is full of mistakes! So many hard words— ore through rock, but like some chemically comand yet not right after all! Was it remorse for bined element, omnipresent yet invisible, only to that frightful intellectual crapula which first in- be detected by analysis. The most learned man spired Sir E. B. L. with the notion of making The will, after all, be the simplest writer. He will Caxtons' moral turn on the dangers of impatience? make his reader feel the power, not see the glitter,

Yet of Harold, now that we are on it, we will of his treasures. say, that it was thoroughly worth reading. With How different the learning of Richter !-in more thought and less haste, it might have been many of whose works, page after page, you shall made a very valuable historical novel. Even in hardly find a sentence which does not give proof its present crude state, it gives a better account of his enormous information, coloring every of the causes which led to the Norman conquest thought at the bidding of a fancy unequalled, than any book we know—a brilliant dramatic perhaps, in analogic and suggestive fertility, picture of the way in which the sluggish properly- except by Shakspeare and Rabelais. Why any worshipping Anglo-Saxon race was gradually man should imitate Sterne's method of quoting, exploité by the crafty and (strange as the asser- while Rabelais and Jean Paul exist, we cannot tion may appear) more democratic Norseman. conceive : it is deliberately to give up the higher We recommend the book honestly to all light model for the lower one. readers, as a pleasant and lively page out of the But it is still more puzzling—and really the philosophy of history, warning them, at the same author, if he be guiltless, should justify himself in time, that we consider it just the nastiest of all a fresh edition to find, if not misquotations, still Sir E. B. L.'s books.

misspellings manifold of classic words. We take But we must return to learning and The Car- the correctness of his quotations for granted. We tons, especially as the Grundean taste by no means really have no time to verify extracts from Dummsympathizes in our disgust.

kopfius de Caudis Porcorum ; we never saw CarIt is painful to have to say it, but we do not dan, or wish to do so. But in the matter of spellaltogether share in that lady's admiration of Mr. ing, if a man quotes Latin and Greek, let him Caxton's erudition. In the first place, he quotes quote it right, in the name of all reason.

The suspiciously often from the same books as Mr. benighted printer may be at fault-we have a Shandy, and suspiciously often, too, from the same hope that such is the case, because we found books as the author of The Anatomy of Melancholy. “ Ceprinidians” spelt rightly in another place, No doubt Sir E. B. L. has as good a right to the “Cyprinidians ;" but the word is Cyprinidæ ; said books as either of those worthies; and no and how “idians” can be got out of “idæ," we doubt, also, he has read a great many books beside do not see—"idæans," we should have written Sterne and Burton, and meditated on them also, not“ in the schools ;” but that was a long time ago, altogether carelessly. We see traces of Jean Paul and we may be wrong. Surely, too, the correcamong other writers in The Caxtons; one passage tion of proofs is a thing not impossible for Sir especially, in the first volume, was quite worthy E. B. L. Why, then, does Mr. Caxton commit of a place among the lighter fancies of Levana. two barbarisms in one unnecessary scrap of Greek?

–οσε και ανθρωποφαγειν! Who ever heard of But, alas ! as his school increased in numbers, he doe? We actually, unable to believe that an had proportionately recanted these honorable and absolute barbarism could have been committed, anti-birchen ideas. He had reluctantly, perhaps hunted Liddell and Scott, in hopes of finding the honestly, no doubt, but with full determination -come to the conclusion, that there are secret word after all ; but no, non est ibi, as Sir E. B. L. springs which can only be detected by the twigs might say, for 't is n't there. And again in of the divining rod; and having discovered with Lucretia, Maxima reverentia, debet (debetur, we what comparative ease the whole mechanism of his opine) liberis ! A misprint ? Why, a scholar little government could be carried on by admission ought to have seen such a monster a mile off,

of the birch-regulator, so, as he grew richer, and through the back of the page, as he ought also to lazier, and fatter, the Philhellenic Institute along as glibly as a top kept in vivacious move- have seen a certain abomination which we found ment by the perpetual application of the lash.— in Lucretia (if.we recollect rightly) the other day, Vol. i., p. 49.

omphalos gaic!-gaie ? gaias, gas, gees, geese, if y u will, Sir E. B. L., but never that bar- | things?" Oh, carnal-minded Grundy! the quesbar rus Greek-Latin hybrid! Why, too, are we tion is not what he would have said then, but what to hear that Vivian had “ of imagination not a he would say now. He did what seemed right to scintilla ?“A spark of imagination,” is good him according to those times; you, if you wish novel-English enough. Is scintilla to mean any- really to honor him, must imitate, not his actions, thing but that? If so, we ought to have had but his spirit. In filial obedience, like everything news thereof; as it is, the reader is left to sup- else, "the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.” pose that the metaphor is one originally borrowed Who really honors bis Norman ancestors bestfrom the Latin—which it is not. “A spark of our Carlisles, and Fortescues, and Ellesmeres ; or rebellion," " wrath,” and such-like, is a classic the gentleman who resolutely plants himself waistexpression, the root-idea of something which will deep in the mud, and, refusing to move on, shrieks kindle a fire being carefully preserved; but con- about “ancestral rights” and “time-honored inceive Cicero indulging in such slip-slop as "a stitutions ?" The oldest was new once. Your spark of imagination !"

William the Conquerors, Anselms, Magna Charta And all this ostentation of questionable classics Barons, Crusaders, Franciscans—what were they and second-hand Shandeeism is utterly annecessary. but reformers ?-creators ? Read history and see. The book gains nothing by it. The second and The true spiritual children of the old Norsementhird volumes, as Sir E. B. L. condescends to be are they the Sir Miles St. Johns, the Sedley Beaucome himself once more, and write as he only can Deserts, even the Roland Caxtons ?- the men who write, are excellent. Here and there still linger consider that their ancestors having done something, classical analogies and similes, generally hackneyed, is the very reason for their doing nothing ? Not often far-fetched, dragged in where Thackeray or they, but rather the Trevanions, the Pisistratus Dickens would have had a dozen better ones drawn Caxtons, who keep up the good old name, not by from modern sources. Why will men try to be siting at home and Coningsbyizing, or weeping what they are not? Why will not Sir E. B. L. over the bier of unreturning abuses, but by emigratcontent himself with weaving the most charming ing to Australia in search of capital, and bringing plots in the most charming English ; rather too it home to drain and till the old ancestral moors in surgary now and then, but still charming, with a the light and the spirit of the great New Time. perpetual variety of incident, motive, character, They are the men in whom the Norse blood comes knowledge of society and men, which never allows out, and they only. Take your pedigrees away, the attention to flag a moment? Why will he not lord duke ! If you are a son of the vikings, be content to do that, instead of trying to be what prove it by daring, thrift, endurance, chivalry like he never will be, a great scholar, much less a theirs. “Replenish the earth and subdue it !" great philosopher !

For the children of Woden The Mover, the only

watchword is, “ Forwards !”
Oh, wad some power the gift but gie us
To see ourselves as ithers see us !

And Uncle Jack-glorious Uncle Jack! Ear

nest, frivolous, practical, visionary, clever, insane And yet we live in glass-houses, Mrs. Grundy; Uncle Jack, never truly benevolent till you become we must throw no stones. What more common thoroughly selfish, honest-hearted as a chrisom than to see men throwing away the powers they child, and yet an abominable rogue-truly you are have in the vain attempt to shine where they were “a man of the time!" Where have we seen such never meant to shine?

a character in print since Smollett and Fielding? Trouver son métier is the arch-problem, after you are living, personal, ideal. We have met all.

you in the streets a hundred times—not all of you, Uncle Roland is a noble character; the imper- but scraps and bits of you, parcelled out into souls sonation of the old idea of family honor. The for fifty different human bodies. Like all true same idea is the ruling one of Sir Miles St. John ideals, the parts of you may be met anywhere, the in Lucretia, and a wonderful living sketch he is. whole of you nowhere. As somebody drew the But Roland rises higher than Sir Miles. He is Venus of somewhere from the combined beauties not the mere conservatist ; he is willing to go of five maidens, so Sir E. B. Lytton has drawn ahead; to earn, as well as to preserve, honor for you from the combined beauties of fifty and five his race, though he sees no higher means of doing English speculators. it than the sword. He is, as he should be, a man But, alas! there is too little of you—you are, of the last generation ; Pisistratus, a man of the “ like angels' visits, few and far between.” Had present. The age of the sword is not past, let such a hack-writer as Boz is become stumbled on Mr. Cobden say what he will. But men are you, he would have turned you into a stock charlearning that the triumphs of the producer are no- acter, made play with you through a dozen chapters bler than those of the destroyer, or even the con- of Dutch painting; as it is, you are “ soon found, servator. So it should be. We honor the true and soon, soon lost." But still, little of you as pride of family, the sense of a debt owed to “ the we see, you are consistent, self-developing, through good old name," as much as Mrs. Grundy herself. one glorious babble after another, from the first We will say, “ Woe to the man who is not ashamed apple-orchard El Dorado down to the last exquisite to be less than his ancestors !" But we will not scene in Australia, which we must quote-for it make our canon of all right and wrong, “ What is, as it were, your moral as well as pecuniary would my poor dear grandfather have said to such apotheosis :

Uncle Jack. Your mind 's made up?

his culmination, or his regeneration? We nare Pisistratus. And my place in the ship taken. good hope that they are a sign of the latter.

U. J. Then there's no more to be said (Hums, More than one of his later works has been anhaws, and examines his nails. Then suddenly, and

nounced as his last words. We look anxiously jerking up his head). That capitalist! It has been on my conscience, nephew, ever since ; and, some

and yet hopefully for “ more last words.” For how or other, since I have abandoned the cause of his own sake we look for them. The man himmy fellow-creatures, I think I have cared more for self is a problem, for which we long for the solumy relations.

tion. Here is an English gentleman wlio for Pisistratus (smiling, as he remembers his father's twenty years has set himself, through evil report shrewd predictions thereon). Naturally, my dear and good report, to face the questions of society as uncle. Any child who throws a stone into a pond it exists who has brought to the task a remarkknows that a circle disappears as it widens.

U. J. Very true. I shall make a note on that, able knowledge of human nature, and of the rules applicable to my next speech in defence of what and means of art-a brilliant dramatic faculty, an they call the land monopoly.” Thank you, inductive power, such as falls to the lot of not one stone-circle (jots down in his pocket-book). But, in a hundred, and an extraordinarily varied and to return to the point, I am well off now. I have

elegant, though perhaps somewhat shallow, culneither wife nor child, and I feel that I ought to

ture. With reverent self-restraint and accurate bear my share in your father's loss : it was our joint speculation. And your father, good dear thought, the man who could write Ernest MalAustin, paid my debts into the bargain! °And how travers-above all, who could draw iwo such cheering the punch was that night, when your characters as Lumley Ferrers and Templeton the mother wanted to scold poor Jack! And the 3001. banker-might well have been expected to do Austin lent me when I left him : nephew, that was hereafter anything he liked. And yet, from a the re-making of me—the acorn of the oak I have hasty, shallow, inaccurate tone of thought, from a transplanted. So here they are (added Uncle Jack, fondness for the mere picturesque of theatrical with an heroical effort ; and he extracted from the pocket-book bills to the amount of between three and slip-slop, and a morbidity of mind, the causes of four thousand pounds.) There, it is done, and I which a reviewer has a right to divine, but not to shall sleep better for it!

suggest, the man has as yet done almost nothing; With that Uncle Jack got up, and bolted out of many people think worse than nothing. Though the room.

his influence is observable throughout all schools Pisistratus has just time to make up his mind of modern novel-writers, yet it is an influence that he ought to take the money, when Uncle Jack almost entirely confined to manner. He has not pops his head into the room again. And, you see, you can double that money if

helped to make his pupils one whit wiser, more

you will just leave it in my hands for a couple of years earnest, more thoughtful, than the old Minerva-you have no notion what I shall make of the press twaddlers were. That they are more earnest Tibbet's Wheal! Did I tell you? The German and thoughtful is not owing to him. That imwas quite right-I have been offered already seven provement they derive from the general spirit of times the sum which I gave for the land. But I lihe age, while from him, we are afraid, they have am now looking out for a Company; let me put derived the habit of expressing that earnestness you down for shares to the amount at least of those trumpery bills. Cent per cent.--I guarantee cent

and thoughtfulness only in washy and somewhat per cent.! (And Uncle Jack stretches out those insincere blague. The truth is, Sir E. B. Lytton famous smooth hands of his, with a tremulous motion is not leading the novel-writers of the age, because of the ten eloquent fingers.)

he is behind the age himself. He has been talkPisistratus. Ah, my dear uncle, if you repent—ing about the great problems of the day, without

U. J. Repent! when I offer you cent per cent. having had courage to sound and solve them. He on my personal guarantee!

has been dallying with an extinct, not to say imPisistratus (carefully putting the bills into his breast coat-pocket)." Then, if you don't repent, my possible, ideal of humanity—a self-sustained, selfdear uncle, allow me to shake you by the hand, and glorifying, hot-house-bred, flunkey, “Sedley-Beausay that I will not consent to lessen my esteem and Desert," ideal—such as this age will not and shall admiration for the high principle which prompts not endure. He has talked Radicalism and progthis restitution by confounding it with trading as- ress, while he has been at heart the veriest exsociations, of loans, interests, and copper-mines. clusive aristocrat. He has worshipped an aristooAnd you see, since this sum is paid to my father, I have no right to invest it without his

permission racy of culture, which would be just as tyrannous, U.J. (with emotion). “Esteem, admiration, high

if it got the upper hand, as any aristocracy of principle!"—these are pleasant words from

wealth or caste. you,

Il a jambe de marquis, as the nephew. (Then shaking his head, and smiling.) French say. Throughout The Cartons there runs You sly dog! you are quite right: get the bills an under-current of reactionary epicureanism, to cashed at once. And, hark ye, sir, just keep out us simply damnable. What is to become of this of my way, will you ? and don't let me coax you man? out of a farthing. (Uncle Jack slams the door and rushes out. Pisistratus draws the bills warily from

Surely, surely, there is more in him than he has his pocket, fc. fc.)

yet shown. He must write again, more slowly,

more reverently, and the fear of God. As for And now comes the final question, What are we giving him detailed advice— before we advise we to expect henceforth from Sir E. B. Lytton? Are must understand; he is at once too large and too The Cartons to be considered as his termination, confused an object for our comprehension. But of

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