artisan is not aware, while he is a marquis, that he has another form of existence. It is only when he comes to himself again that he knows that he has had for twenty-four hours the experience of a marquis's life. Eugène Sue's object was, doubtless, to show the poor man how great a mistake it often is to envy the rich man. There was no increase of power given to the individual soul.

Now, I really do not see, taking into consideration the infinite variety and beneficence manifested in creation, why in some happy planet there may not be a great increase of power given to a creature something like

man.

Ellesmere. I am not so taken as the rest of you with Milverton's fond imaginations. I see fifty objections to his grand idea. If the other soul is to be of any real use or comfort, it must have individuality. If it has individuality, it will differ in opinion with Soul No. 1.

Again, you may talk about joys being doubled, and sorrows being halved; but I do not take much interest in things that are done in committee. The whole affair is too much of a joint stock transaction.

Milverton. I am going to tell you something, which perhaps has some application to Ellesmere and to the critical race generally a little simple story which I have often longed to tell when Ellesmere has been taking points and making endless small objections.

Ellesmere. Oh, we are a little nettled now, are we? Nothing makes a man more eross than when a really kind friend shows him that his poetry won't scan. The same

thing when it is shown him that what he thinks to be his most poetical ideas are all awry, as it were, and won't bear looking at. Pray tell your story, though.

["Ch, yes, pray do," said the others.]

Ellesmere. How delighted you all are at any attack being made upon me! Everybody seems to rouse up all of a sudden; and Fairy, perceiving a general movement, makes a circuit round us, as you see, and sniffs and snuffs as if there was a rat or a badger near, to be hunted or baited. Tell your story; do not spare my feelings. I like to see people happy. This sort of thing pleases you, and it does not hurt me.

Milverton. When there is a nursery in a house, everybody must admit that the pleasantest meal in the day is nursery-tea. I always contrive to become sufficiently familiar with the nursery authorities to be admitted. The mistress is never more agree

able than when presiding at this tea. The master gets away if he can from his sporting friends and their eternal talk about horses, dogs, and partridges; and enjoys the high paternal pleasure of playing at pick-a-back with his little boys. The children are much more pleasant and natural at this tea-time than when they are brought down in their best nursery-frocks after dinner.

Ellesmere. Ugh: this nursery story, which is to confound all judicious critics, including myself.

Milverton. Well, I was assisting at one of these pleasant nursery teas in a country house. One of the children present was a pretty little girl about three years old, who had a nurse, especially devoted to her, of the name of Maria.

By the way, I may mention that some baked apples had made their appearance at this nursery tea, which in consequence may be considered to have been what the fashionable world calls "a high tea."

Suddenly, at a pause in the conversation, the little child, putting down a piece of bread and butter, exclaimed, with a very distinct utterance, "Ma-i-vey say 'happles;' fool she are."

Maria, a jolly country girl about fifteen years old, blushed, but looked quite pleased that Miss Gertrude was so clever, and said, "You dear little thing."

The mamma was 66 shocked" at such a "naughty word" as "fool" being used to "good kind Maria."

Miss Gertrude having uttered her "judicious" criticism, was not much dismayed by mamma's remonstrance.

I thought of Ellesmere and of his flock of critics whom he delights in.

You see the small critic pointed out, with great satisfaction, a little over-indulgence in the use of the aspirate on the part of poor Maria; but was perfectly unconscious that in her own six words she had committed four errors.

Ellesmere. How do you make out four? Milverton. "Maivey" for "Maria," "say" for "says," "are" for "is ;" and surely you would admit that the use of the word "fool" is thoroughly inappropriate. People who misplace their aspirates are not necessarily fools.

But does not Miss Gertrude's criticism remind you all, not only of Ellesmere's way of exercising his critical faculty, but also of other criticisms not heard in nurseries, but in the high courts of literature and politics? Have you never found the critic disclose four errors on his own part for one that he delights to point out in the sayings or doings of the person he criticises? You may be

sure that something very nearly akin to “Ma-i-vey say 'happles;' fool she are," has been uttered in very high places this very day, and not by children of three years old only.

Ellesmere. Absolutely malignant! He has bottled up this story to be told against me on some great occasion. I believe it has been impending over my devoted head for the last two years. I really was not particularly critical to-day; but he was particularly vexed, as people always are when the ideas which they are very fond of, but which are not a little rickety, come to be examined by the drill-sergeant, or rather by the Medical Board.

Sir Arthur. It is an excellent story.

Lady Ellesmere. I shall never forget it. Ellesmere. I know that; I shall be bored by my lady with the story all my life. And as for Sir Arthur, he was sure to delight in it. He has undergone a little criticism himself in the course of his life-totally unjust, no doubt; for as I heard him say to Milverton the other day, "Criticism is for the most part so thin." What he meant I do not know, but the two authors chuckled over the phrase, and seemed to think it so condemnatory and so clever.

Sir Arthur. Milverton has silenced Ellesmere. I am, however, going to revive Sir John, and I shall do so by returning to our original subject. Have you never felt overwearied yourself, Ellesmere; and as if you would give anything to have another Sir John to take up the work for you? In no great case that you have had to argue ?

Ellesmere. I am a sensible man; and I do not allow myself to fret myself to fiddlestrings. Sometimes, after a weighty consultation, I have found myself lying awake, and scheming and planning how to conduct a case. On such occasions I do everything I can to break up such trains of thought. I say to myself," My health and spirits belong to my clients; there is nothing so important for their interests as that I should be strong and in good nerve to-morrow."

Only think if race-horses, the night before the Derby, knew about to-morrow's race, how the more nervous and sensitive spirits among them would fret, and fuss, and lose their sleep, and fail to answer, when called upon to make their final effort. When I was in the case, one of the heaviest I was ever engaged in, I found myself at this planning of my course of argument the night before, and becoming cold, and nervous, and miserable. I got up, and lit a fire, and set to work to read a volume of Victor Hugo's novel, "Les Miserables." That great book has, happily,

certain long parenthetical discussions which are not very exciting. I fell upon one of these, and in half an hour I was in a sweet and composed state of mind, and I had five hours' good sleep that night.

My client was a dear friend as well as client, and when I saw his anxious face next day in court, I should not like to have told him that I had read "Les Miserables" the previous night, in order to get rid of him and his cause from my thoughts. But it was the best thing I could have done for him.

You see, therefore, that you do not take much by appealing to me to back up Milverton's "fond imaginations," for so Î must

call them.

Milverton. My dear Sir Arthur, you cannot bring Ellesmere round, when he has once taken up a side against you. Let us change the subject. Ellesmere's reference to "Les Miserables" has put me in mind of what he said some time ago about novels. Do you remember the fun he made of his "Edwin and Angelina?" But if he meant to run down the works of fiction of the present day, I am sure he is not warranted in doing so. I have just been reading a number of the "Last Chronicle of Barset." What an excellent novel it is! How true to life are the conversations, and the letters! Now I maintain that no age has been so rich in good works of fiction, and perhaps in good writing of all kinds, as ours. Ellesmere will, I dare say, declare that, in a future age, almost all the present writers will be quite forgotten. I do not know, but I cannot imagine that Tennyson and Browning, Dickens and Bulwer, and Thackeray and Trollope, and the great feminine writers, the authoress of "The Mill on the Floss," the authoress of " Jane Eyre,” or of "John Halifax, Gentleman," and many others, will cease to be valued and their works read.

I think the same may be said of the great historical writers-such as Hallam, Grote, Macaulay, Carlyle, Milman, Froude, and Merivale.

I don't venture to speak much about the writers of other nations, but I think it will be a long time before Emerson and Hawthorne and Prescott will be forgotten in their own country.

Now I have not brought this subject on the tapis merely for the sake of getting a change of subject, but I have something very important to say about it. I see, though, Ellesmere is impatient to have his say.

Ellesmere. "Blow the trumpets, sound the drums!" Milverton is going to say

Milverton. How men may misunderstand one another! I really do believe that, if Ellesmere were to meet Mr. Trollope, he would be very cold or cross to him if Lily Dale marries John Eames, or if she marries Crosby, or if she does not marry him, or if she does not become an old maid, for I am sure I do not know what Ellesmere wants her to do.

Trollope would go away thinking that he had somehow or other offended Ellesmere, or was greatly disesteemed by him; whereas Ellesmere would be paying him the highest compliment that could be paid to a man of imagination.

Here is this severe, satirical, case-hardened lawyer, and he is so possessed by a phantom of the novelist's brain, that he is positively prepared to be enraged if this she-phantom does not act exactly as he would have her. What's Lily Dale to him, or he to Lily Dale ?

Ellesmere. Well, she is more to me than many a character I read of in history. Your historical characters are such fleeting things nowadays. I used to dislike Nero. I am now told that he was a most estimable gentleman, and has been quite misunderstood until the present time. If he fiddled at all, it was not during the fire, but after the fire, to collect subscriptions for the sufferers.

But what was the important thing that you were going to tell us, Milverton?

Milverton. I do not care how much you ridicule me, but I do maintain that ours is a notable age for its richness in literary skill. Look at the excellence in the daily and weekly press, and in these innumerable monthlies. It is a perpetual source of astonishment to me to see how many people can write well, and have really a great deal to tell you.

I know that Ellesmere will say that I am always unreasonably prone to dwell upon the merits of everything and everybody; but upon the other hand, I think I am very critical about the writing of English.

A few minutes ago, I mentioned several names of men eminent in literature. But I could add many others. There are Henry Taylor, and Ruskin, and Kingsley, and John

Mill, for instance: I pity the man who has read their works, and has not been able to learn a great deal from them, and to appreciate the goodness of the writing.

Amongst our statesmen, too, there are men who would have been very considerable writers, if they had not devoted themselves to statesmanship. Lord Russell's "Europe since the Peace of Utrecht" is a very wellwritten work. Mr. Disraeli's novels are remarkable productions. I read his "Contarini Fleming," as a youth, with immense admiration; and I read it again, last year, with great pleasure. Mr. Gladstone, also, and the Duke of Argyll, are men who have shown that they can leave their mark in literature.

Whatever you may say, I do maintain that ours is a great age as regards power of thought and expression.

Now, what I want you to notice is, that the great men who have made the age pre-eminent were all born, or at least nurtured, and the direction of their talents given to them, in a time of profound peace. The great strides in European civilization, whether in arts, in science, or in literature, have been made in consequence of there having been such periods. I wish we could have Buckle back again in life here with us, for I am sure he would

At this moment the postman made his appearance with the second delivery of letters, which the old man asked us to receive, in order that he might be saved the trouble of going up the hill. Now Sir John is furious about this second delivery. It is no joke with him he is really very angry.

Ellesmere. Have you no conscience, George; are you dead to all the finer feelings of humanity, that you molest us twice a day? I must come to some understanding with you. Your proper Christmas-box from me is two hundred and forty pence,that is, if you do not bring me any letters during the time that I am here. For every letter you bring, I must deduct a penny, and if the balance turns against you, you must give me a Christmas-box. I do believe you have brought me two hundred and eighty letters this time, consequently you owe me forty pence, which, when I was a National School-boy, used to amount to three shillings and fourpence, the sum, Mr. George, you are now in debt to me.

George. Oh, your honour would not be so hard on poor old George, that has known you these twenty years, and such a snowy

winter, too, as last winter have a been. 'Sides I must do what the missus (the postmistress) tells I to do.

Ellesmere. It is no excuse, George! If we do all that our "missuses" tell us, we shall most of us come to the gallows.

George. Ah, you be allus so jokous, Lawyer Ellesmere; but you know we must. (And saying this, the old man took off his hat, and making a general bow to us, trotted off.)

Ellesmere. Do you see Peter Garbet's house in the distance-that wretched hovel surrounded by other hovels, on the top of Mendmore Hill? I am sorry to tell you that old Peter and two of his children are ill of the fever, and that Mrs. Garbet is nearly distracted.

Mrs. Milverton. I knew all about it, John. I have done everything I could for her.

Ellesmere. I know you have, my dear Blanche, and so have I in my little way; but how can we counteract the post-office?

Milverton. What nonsense, Ellesmere ! I am sure old Peter has not received three letters in the course of his life.

Ellesmere. Considering that you pretend to have a great admiration for history, you are certainly a very shallow fellow, my dear friend, and never look far back enough to

causes.

Who in modern times invented the postoffice? As Macaulay would have said, "Every schoolboy knows that."

Why, Louis the Eleventh just like him, is it not? Everybody who has seen Charles Kean in the character of Louis the Eleventh would know that that crafty, cruel, unprincipled king would, of course, invent the post-office system.

What did he say to himself?" Despatches make my life miserable; my subjects shall have a taste of them too. Besides, they will not look so sharply into my proceedings, if they have their own letters to molest them every day."

What happens? By these means Louis the Eleventh crushes his nobles, and increases the kingly power to an enormous extent. Louis the Fourteenth, the Regent Orleans, and Louis the Fifteenth abuse this kingly power outrageously. France is rendered miserable; and, in good, well-meaning Louis the Sixteenth's time, comes the French Revolution.

Out of the French Revolution, by necessity, comes Napoleon the First.

By an equal necessity, England and Pitt must have a set-to with Napoleon the First.

Hence four hundred millions of debt.

Hence window-tax and excise duty on bricks.

Consequently Peter Garbet's cottage is built with one side against a damp hill to save bricks, and has a window only eighteen inches square. Hence dampness and insufficient ventilation, and hence poor Peter Garbet and his two children lie ill in that miserable hovel.

Milverton. I am sorry to say anything against a series of statements and conclusions which are so admirably set forth by our learned friend; but Louis the Eleventh did not establish the post-office in the sense which Ellesmere understands it. He established a series of posts for the Government and for the Court, but it was not adopted by the community in general till Richelieu's

time.

Ellesmere. The same thing. Richelieu was but Louis the Eleventh in cardinal's petticoats.

Milverton. I am sorry to intrude with unpleasant facts, but Richelieu was not the prime agent in this matter. It was done by the Duc d'Epernon, when Richelieu was for a year or two in retirement.

Ellesmere. What wretched pedantry all this is! It is clear that the cruel Louis the Eleventh was the inventor of the system. You admit that he applied it to his Court. The Court in those days comprehended the principal men in the kingdom. Well, then, this system was enlarged in Richelieu's time. Do you think it was done without his approbation, or continued without his consent?

Practically speaking, it is a device of tyranny. After you have passed the immature age of twenty-three, does anybody write to you but to annoy you about something?

Mauleverer. I think Ellesmere is quite right. All the clever inventions of man only lead to increased misery.

Milverton. What do you say to the use of chloroform?

Ellesmere. They do not apply it to the right people. Anybody who is about to write a letter to a lawyer in vacation should be chloroformed, and the trance should be made to last for two years at least.

Here Sir John, who had an immense number of letters to-day, got up and walked away. The rest of us did the same, and so the conversation ended.

We had only just begun our walk, when we heard Sir John calling after us. When he came within speaking distance, he shouted out to us, "Mind,

I don't agree with Milverton about his eminent men being born and nurtured in times of peace. I am prepared to maintain the exact contrary, only I haven't time just now. Old George, the villain, came at the exact moment to save Milverton, that peace-maniac, from a sound intellectual drubbing. bye." And so saying, he rushed up the hill again, while we proceeded on our walk towards the town; Mr. Milverton merely remarking, "What a contentious creature it is! But I never thought he would let that pass."

CHAPTER X.

Good

NEXT morning I awoke at seven o'clock, and saw a tall figure very busy at my drawers. "Who is that?" I exclaimed.

"It's me," replied a voice which I recognised as Sir John Ellesmere's.

Ellesmere. I say "It's me" advisedly; and am prepared to maintain that it is good grammar to say so.

What am I about? Why, I am rectifying my frontiers in the article of cricket-balls. Little Tommy Jessom has got a whole holiday, and has honoured us by a visit. A quarter to seven is not a strictly fashionable hour for making a morning call upon a respectable family; but boys are privileged beings. The minute but persevering Tommy insists upon our having a game at cricket, and I am going to give him an innings. I saw you put away a well-greased ball in one of these drawers the other day.

Hallo! emerald studs! and very pretty ones, too. What young woman has been foolish enough to see anything in your lengthy face, Sandy, and to give you these studs? I see I must "execute the provisions of a treaty" in regard to these studs —a treaty to be signed by the small Tommy and me, which, being rightly interpreted, will be found to provide that, under pain of being thrashed himself, he shall come into your room, carry off the studs, and present them to the other high contracting party. You shall then complain to me of Tommy; and between us we will execute the provisions of another treaty, and carry off Master Tommy's bat and stumps. We want stumps sadly; and should not be the worse for a spare bat. Thus everything will be arranged satisfactorily, according to the

latest and best construction put upon international law.

So saying, Sir John, having, to use his own phrase, "rectified his frontiers' by seizing upon my pet cricket-ball, strode out of the room to play with Tommy Jessom.

An hour or two after breakfast we all went to the summer-house to have another reading of Realmah.

Ellesmere. Tommy, I have a serious word to say to you. You are an incomplete, imperfect boy; in fact, a mere eidolon, or spectrum, or larva, of a boy. The perfect boy has always in his pockets a ball of string, a lump of beeswax, thirty-seven marbles, two alley-taws, and a knife with six blades, a gimlet, a punch, a corkscrew, and a little saw. I regret to say that you were found to be deficient in all these articles this morning. Proceed at once to Mother Childman's in the town, and buy them forthwith. (Here Ellesmere gave the boy some money.) Away! Avaunt! Quousque tandem abutêre, Catilina, patientia nostrâ!" Vanish.

[Exit Little Tommy.

The boy would be bored to death by our reading and our talk. By the way, he has made me very unhappy this morning.

Milverton. Why he is the best of little boys-a perfect boy, notwithstanding the absence of beeswax and string.

Ellesmere. I am in a sort of a way his godfather. Poor Smy cousin, was his godfather; and now that S- is dead, I consider that I take his place. Consequently, I thought it my duty, in the intervals of cricket, to talk to him a little about his lessons. It is the same sad story as it was in our time. Hexas and pens for to-day alcaics and Latin theme for Monday; in fact, a painful and laborious gathering together of useless rubbish.

Johnson. What are hexas and pens, Sir John ?

Ellesmere. You have not been brought up, Sandy, in the groves of Academus, or you would know that hexas and pens are the short for hexameters and pentameters.

Hereupon ensued a conversation of the most animated description. I could not have thought that any people would have been so excited about the question of boys making Latin verses. The most uncomplimentary speeches passed between Mr. Cranmer and Sir John, Mr.