AS Hamilton was proceeding to the house of the Baronet, he met his
worthy and respected friend, Dr. Scribble, in company of the no less
respectable bookseller, whom he had once seen, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt.
The Doctor, with eager warmth, ran to take hold of Hamilton, whom he
had not seen for several weeks, and declared himself extremely happy
in the interview. Lawhunt and he were about a project, in which the
assistance of Hamilton would, the Doctor said, be of great use to them;
and he proposed that they should immediately form an appointment.
Our hero, besides the business about which he was employed, had no
curiosity to interfere in any publication, in which Jeffery was to be
the pecuniary, and Scribble the literary manager. Scribble, however,
pressed him very much. Hamilton replied he was engaged to meet Sir
Edward Hamden upon business, and that, uncertain how long time that
might occupy, he could fix no appointment. At this instant, a carriage
passing, a voice called the name of Hamilton, and turning about, he
beheld the subject of his conversation. Hamilton informed him, that
he was on his way to his house, and wished for a long conversation.
Hamden told him he was going out of town, by an appointment, at that
time; but would either visit, receive, or meet him, the following
morning, at any hour he should name. This matter being arranged, the
Baronet departed, and Scribble and his companion, who had heard what
passed, and understood that he was unengaged, insisted on his listening
to their project; and at length, overcome by their importunity, he
consented. Accordingly, walking to the outskirts of the town, they
reached a coffee-house, which Hamilton found was to be the scene
of their deliberations. They were no sooner arrived than Scribble
proposed, seconded by Lawhunt, that they should give directions for
dinner. Hamilton, though vexed at the prospect of losing time, in
company that promised so little information, instruction, or benefit,
yet, not wishing to shock Scribble, by shewing the real estimation in
which he held his discourse, consented to continue one of the party;
they took possession of a back parlour; down they sat, and opened the
business. Scribble commenced with a dissertation on the wonderful
benefits that must accrue to British literature, from foreign works,
and especially from the modern erudition of Germany. “There,” said
Dicky, “they bestow due pains on investigating the valuable secrets of
nature; thence are derived our most accurate knowledge on accoustics,
acroatics, astrology, astronomy, anatomy, beatifics, botany, chemistry,
drill-husbandry, excrescences, eclipses, electricity, in short, why
need I enumerate particulars of all knowledge, philosophy, and art,
ancient and modern; they have brought illuminism to it’s present
wonderful height; they have their Weishaup, and their numberless other
enlightened sages, upon morals and politics; then they have their
novels, and poems, and plays, manifesting such new views of substances,
modes, and relations, shewing God, nature, and man, in lights in which
the dullness and ignorance of British genius and erudition never
before represented such objects; and they possess that perseverance
and industry, which I hold to be the chief constituent of genius. It
is a mistake, that intellectual superiority depends upon any natural
gift, it is merely the result of exercise and effort; but this subject
you will see fully illustrated in my preface to my history of Jack
the giant-killer; for instance, as I there admit, I, myself, was not
naturally very greatly beyond my cotemporaries. It was my ardent desire
of literary excellence, that stimulated me to the extraordinary efforts
which have raised me so far to transcend ordinary men; but this is a
digression, though tending to illustrate my praises of the Germans,
for their meritorious industry: and here let me remark one conspicuous
superiority of German over British diligence, in literary subjects;
our countrymen, adhering to the absurd doctrine of utility, are loth
to apply with equal diligence to all subjects; for instance, a common
reviewer would not bestow equal minuteness of attention on the wings
and abdomen of a bee, as on the fate of a nation. How different a
German, who will employ as profound research, in investigating the
various members of a fly, as the powers and qualities of the human
understanding and heart; this is, indeed, a minuteness of inquiry,
in which I vouchsafe to copy the Germans, both in criticism and in
original composition, as you may have observed in various reviews,
which bear themselves to be mine, and also in my other writings;
but most of all in “_my essay upon cats_,” including my scheme for
improving their moral habits, and teaching them to be more attentive to
decency and silence, when inspirited by omnipotent nature; also in my
history of Jack the giant-killer: but as I admire German learning to
imitation, I think it my bounden duty to naturalize as great a quantity
of that valuable erudition, as my time and engagements will admit. A
more munificent patron of learning is no where to be found, than this
worthy gentleman, Mr. Jeffery Lawhunt.” “Oh yes,” said Jeffery, “I am
very fond of encouraging _larning_, and do all I can for it, _except
during the term_, when I am so _construpated_ by lawyers, that I have
no time. Never man was so tormented, yet,--it is not my fault; if they
let me alone, I let them alone. I hardly ever am plaintiff, unless
indeed it be in _filing bills_ but always defendant. If I happen to
give an acceptance, and can employ my money to more advantage than
paying it, is not it extremely hard that I must be sued? I have
lost at least five thousand pounds, where I should have gained with
costs; but juries and judges are so unreasonable, and will hear what
even strangers say of me, sooner than what my own intimates say, and
confirm with an oath. I very lately lost, by an arbitration, a great
sum, though I thought I had every thing cut and dry: I spoke to my
brother the fruiterer to come as a witness; he did so, and brought
his man with him. This evidence was a hollow thing; but what do you
think of the arbitrator,--a counsellor too? Merely because my brother
happened, out of forgetfulness, _to say something contrary to what he
had said before_; from that time, I am convinced, he did not pay any
regard to what he said.” “How do you know that, Mr. Lawhunt?” said
Hamilton. “How do I know it,” replied the other, “because my brother
swore point blank I did not owe the plaintiff one hundred pounds,
and the arbitrator gave an award of seven hundred, and did not that
prove how little they regarded Ned’s evidence?” addressing Hamilton.
“Undoubtedly it did,” replied our hero. “But what was worse than that,”
said Jeffery, “there was my own foreman, a good obliging fellow as ever
lived, that would not stick at a trifle; he and I had a great deal of
talk before, and we settled about his evidence. The first day he was
called, it was on a Saturday; I remember he was very clear--all for me;
plaintiff’s counsel did not ask him a single question. On the Sunday he
dined with me; we were quite jocose.” “Dingwal,” said I, (his name is
Donald Dingwal) “you did very well yesterday; but get through as well
to-morrow, and we will do.” “Why,” says he, “that Chiswick, Farragan’s
council (Farragan was the plaintiff, a damned Scotch Highlander;
‘perhaps you know him, sir.’ ‘Oh, very well,’ said Hamilton) was not
at all captious.” “With that I agreed; but what do you think? Chiswick
was laying a trap all the time. Dingwal having finished what we had
agreed, Chiswick began that damned cross-questioning, and dodged and
winded the poor fellow so about, that on the Monday, as ill luck would
have it, the poor man swore the direct contrary to what he had done on
the Saturday. Chiswick had not lain by for nothing, and from the award,
it was evident that the arbitrator believed my friend Dingwal against
me, though he would not believe him for me. However, I cannot blame
Dingwal; he had the good will, and if it had not been for Chiswick’s
cross-questioning, would have been a most serviceable witness; and I
must say, I before found him very obliging in his testimony; he went
through like a hero when he was not so cross-examined. In the instance
that I have just mentioned, I lost my cause; so you see I have had
trials and tribulations in this world; nevertheless, I am a man of
great property, and can afford to pay for a good commodity, in the
literary line, as much as any man.” Mr. Lawhunt having favoured his two
companions with this biographical sketch, then proceeded to business.
“Dr. Scribble here,” says Mr. Lawhunt, “we all know to be a man of very
extraordinary genius and larning. He has been a mentioning to me a plan
of translating German books, of plays and histories, and philosophers,
and _luminies_, and other pastimes, which he thinks would make very
clever books; and if any one can do the job, he is the hand; but I
need not mention him to you,--you know Dr. Scribble.” “Yes, yes,” says
Dicky, “he knows me.” “That I do,” replied Hamilton, “most thoroughly.”
“And I will venture to say,” rejoined Scribble, “that he has a just
value for me.” “That you may safely affirm,” said the other. “But,”
continued the Doctor, “what we particularly want with you, is to do us
_justice in the reviews_ and conversation, _by speaking very highly_ of
the work. I have already written a specimen; it is the translation of
a play, one of the finest that ever entered into the human imagination
to conceive; it is the story of Hurlobothrumbo, a Spanish hero, who
sets off to the war with the Moors in Andalusia, with four attendants;
he overcomes fifteen thousand, enters the city of the enemy alone,
encounters twenty thousand, formed in a hollow square, in one of their
narrow streets.” “Very well,” said Hamilton, “that’s a good idea.” “He
couches his lance, charges the first five thousand that extended across
the lane; defeats them; takes the city by storm.” “That was a great
hero,” said Jeffery. “Yes,” said Scribble, “I will defy any writer
but a German to think of such a hero.” “Oh do not,” said Hamilton,
“disparage our own country too much;--what think you of Drawcansir?”
“You know, Hamilton,” said Scribble, with much pomposity, “I do not
like jesting upon serious subjects; I have often given my admonitions
upon that topic.” “Which I hold in due estimation,” replied Hamilton.
“But you do not always attend to them,” rejoined Scribble, a little
sharply. “That does not contradict my position,” said the other.
Scribble taking this as a compliment, proceeded, “Hurlobothrumbo sets
all the prisoners free, returns to his own country, finds his mistress
confined in a castle, guarded by a thousand giants, with one more
enormous and fierce than all the rest, breaks through seven iron gates,
kills the head giant, and five hundred more. The five hundred and
second, with the other four hundred and ninety-eight, disheartened by
the fall of their master and companions, yield to the heroic conqueror.
He learns that his old father is somewhere confined in a dungeon, that
nobody knows where but the ghost of a female, that at midnight amuses
herself with playing a pibrach upon a Scotch bagpipe, accompanied
by two others, performing on the hurdy-gurdy and the Jew’s harp. It
is said, by the now subjected giants, to be reported, that the head
ghost will answer no questions, unless a tune is hit to her mind.
Various airs had been tried, but to no effect. The hero swears he will
venture, though a hundred ghosts assail. Midnight arrives, and a dark
and gloomy night it is. Hurlobothrumbo goes to the _oratory_, which
all know is the favourite walk[4] of ghosts, and there he meets the
three apparitions; the head one in a white silk negligee and petticoat;
the other two in muslin. The lady begins Rothie Murcus’s rant, that
convinces Hurlo that she is fond of Scotch music, which he, having met
among the Moors with a Highland fidler from Strathspey, thoroughly
understands. Fortunately there is a fiddle at hand; he answers Rothie
Murcus by Money Musk; the ghosts fall a dancing, from which he
conceives a good omen. The head lady strikes up Nancy Dawson, and
makes a motion for him to join in the reel. The intrepid Hurlo foots it
with the head spectre, playing all the while; the hobgoblins, warm with
the exercise, sit down upon a bench. The hero regales them with Moggy
Lawder; Hobgoblina, delighted with this melodious air, rises, and is
making a very low curtsey; but sinking too much, falls to the ground;
quickly starting up, she speaks:
My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;
Your hapless father is in durance vile;
But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.
Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?
Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.
And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,
At least maids deem’d:--Alas! not justly deem’d,
For ah confessors are most dangerous men,
So may Grizzelda from experience say:
An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.
The maidens interrupted Mother Mum;
Methinks a goblin need not be a blab;
Revolve the wisdom of the English sage,
Deliver’d after the dire fall of rug,
In Molly’s garret, to his rival Jones;
_Acts there are most fitting to be done,
Which are not fitting to be made a boast_;
Therefore, again, we say good Mother, mum,
The proverb calls, dead men tell no tales,
(To the virgins thus replied their mam)
But must dead women also hold their tongues,
And e’en when frailties of friends are known?
’Tis very hard; but since it must be,--mum”
“I think, doctor, your ghosts speak blank verse.” “Oh yes, you would
not have a ghost speak plain prose, would you?” “But when the Moors
had Andalusia, how came the ladies to be acquainted with Tom Jones,
which was not written for several centuries after? Are you not out
in chronology?” “Pshaw, who the devil ever expected chronology in
German literature; you might as well expect history, geography, or
probability, which would entirely destroy the gigantesque.” “I admit
the justness of your remark, and stand corrected; but proceed, if you
please, with your story.” “Thrumbo, the old lady, and the _maidens_,
sally forth in quest of the father; the hero encounters no obstacles
but iron bars, which he cracks like walnut-shells, until he reaches
the kernel. The five hundred and one giants supposed dead, rise
to the tune of ‘Up and war them a’ Willie,’ and by the enchanting
melody, are made virtuous and holy. Hurlothrumbo marries his beloved
Aldonazina, and with marriage and reformation the piece concludes.”
“Well,” said Jeffery, “how do you like this production, Mr. Hamilton?”
Before he could answer, “I will venture to speak for him,” said Dr.
Scribble, “such a treat he has rarely enjoyed. This is a sample of our
German plays, which must prove a most valuable accession to English
dramatic literature, and poetry in general. Would your Murphys or
your Vanburghs, and your Steeles and your Congreves, your Homes, your
Rowes, your Southerns, or your Otway, equal this work?” “I dare say,”
said Hamilton, “no production of theirs would ever resemble it; even
Sheridan himself, if he were to try his hand, would not make it so
pure; he certainly has astonishing genius, but I doubt if he were to
try this German mode, with all his brilliancy of fancy, if he could
make so unique a performance, and resolutely exclude from every scene
and passage, nature, truth, and probability. This production, in it’s
beginning, middle, and end, is thoroughly consistent. The incidents
are all of a credibility, so nearly equal, that if the fancy can
stretch so far as to take in one, it may swallow all the rest. The
single captor of a strongly fortified town might vanquish a thousand
giants, crack iron bars like walnuts, or dance Rothie Murcus with his
deceased grandmother.” “Yes,” said Scribble, “your criticism is right;
it is the _pure gigantesque_.” “But how comes the German author to be
so well acquainted with Scotch and English tunes?” “Oh, the tunes I
introduce myself, in order to accommodate them to a British audience.
I have several others in hand; in one, there is a new way of making
love, or rather of introducing a lover to his mistress; and how do you
think it is contrived?” “Faith I cannot say; though in this age of
innovation, I should not be surprized, if a scheme were devised for
making love after the fashion of the Irish sociables.” “But will you
hear how they meet? A youth falls in love with a nun; she is closely
guarded in the convent; he wishes an interview, but how is it to be
effected? He tries to bribe the servants; it will not do; to scale the
walls--too steep and high; to get a rope-ladder, narrowly escapes being
caught, but succeeds at last by----the ministration of an earthquake.
There comes a convulsion so delicate and nice, as to make a chasm large
enough for the lovers, without being seen by any body else.” “A most
civil and accommodating earthquake, indeed,” said Hamilton. “The lovers
meet every night, and continue in an adjoining grove till morning, and
often repeat their interviews. The effects of the earthquake become
daily more visible: but the morality is marvellous and gigantesque, as
well as the fable. When it is obvious that poor Miss experiences the
consequences of sentimental susceptibility, and is taken to task by
the rest of the sisterhood, she admits the fact, but denies guilt.
She had found her lover a very pleasant youth; it was agreeable to
benevolence to make such a youth happy, especially when she could
make herself happy to boot; forms were mere inventions of priests, to
subjugate the best and most delightful feelings of nature to their
controul. Was it a crime, to add to the number of mankind? Here you
have the liberal and expanded morality of the German drama. I could
give you various instances of the superlative excellence of modern
Germanic literature, on subjects of property, establishments, religious
institutions, and many other topics; but the present samples shew the
nature, objects, and character of the works which I wish to translate.
Do not you think the infusion of German productions will tend very much
to improve the literature and science of Britain, physical, moral,
and political?” Hamilton made it a rule not to enter into disputes
with persons, from whose knowledge and arguments he was sure he could
derive neither valuable information nor instruction, and thence he
had usually abstained from argumentation with Dr. Scribble. In the
present instance, conceiving that there was no ground of apprehension
that such incongruous absurdities could be favourably received by the
vigorous and discriminating understandings of Englishmen, he thought
that the publication would be perfectly harmless, would be little read,
make no impression, and be speedily forgotten. For rapidly steering a
literary bark to the gulph of oblivion, he knew no one could be better
qualified than Dr. Scribble; indeed his very name had a Lethean effect,
as it precluded the perusal of works, which a sight of the title-page
associated with the idea of nonsense. “Do you mean,” said our hero,
“to put your name to it, Doctor?” “Oh certainly,” inter-posed Lawhunt,
“we must have the Doctor’s name.” “Yes,” said the Doctor, “my name will
have it’s weight; I believe I have published more volumes than any man
of my age.” “Especially,” remarked Hamilton, “first editions.” Lawhunt
happening at this instant to go out, the Doctor said, “I do not like
those kind of sneering animadversions, I have often hinted so.” “Come
come, Scribby, do not be angry now.” “Nothing galls me so much as any
reflection upon _my talents_; I should rather you would think me wicked
than dull; I have been always labouring not to be thought dull.” “And
an up-hill work it is,” said Hamilton. “Now, sir, I will not bear
that,” said Scribble, “curse me if I do.” “Do not let it get into a
passion?” said Hamilton. “I must say you are an impertinent, insolent
fellow,” replied Scribble. “Harkee, sir,” rejoined Hamilton, “whatever
opinion I have entertained of you myself, I have religiously forborne
delivering my sentiments, so as to affect your employment; the same
forbearance I will now observe. Before this man, Lawhunt, I shall still
abstain from expressing that opinion; but even from you, contempt will
not suffer the insolent expressions that you have dared to use, or let
them pass without suitable chastisement; till to-morrow morning I give
you to think of the subject.” The courage of poor Scribble was much on
a par with his bodily strength and mental abilities. He was beginning
to make an apologetic speech, when Jeffery entered in considerable
agitation, saying, he had seen a glimpse of two men that he did not
want to meet; he therefore requested Scribble to settle for him, as he
could not wait to call for a bill, and before the other could answer,
departed with great expedition, by a door that opened into a lane.
The fact, it seems, was, in returning to the parlour, he had, through
the glass door of the coffee-house, seen two persons reconnoitring
the boxes. One of the persons he well knew, and in company with whom
he had oftener been than he wished. Fortunately recollecting that one
door of the back parlour afforded an escape by the lane, he had bolted
that which communicated with the passage, so as to obstruct pursuit;
and he had not been gone two minutes, when a rough voice called at the
door, “open.” The waiter, comprehending the case, ran round the other
way, and told the gentlemen, for God’s sake, if they were afraid of
bailiffs, to make haste away. They both assured him they were under
no apprehensions. “Then sir,” said he, “if the other gentleman is
safe, we had better open the door; but let us lock this door to keep
back pursuit.” A very thundering knock with a foot now forced open
the door, which was slight. Hamilton started from his seat, and as
one fellow entered, in an angry tone demanded who they were, and what
they wanted? “We want Lawhunt, and you are he,” said one of them,
collaring Hamilton. Though the fellow was strong, yet the other was
much stronger, and at one blow felled his assailant to the ground. The
master had, meanwhile, been occupied with another gentleman, whom he
had discovered in a corner box in the coffee-room, when the waiter,
with much exultation, roared out, “By the Lord, the gentleman is
mauling the catchpole.” The master hearing this intelligence, ran to
the assistance of his follower, without considering his own engagement,
and finding him prostrate at Hamilton’s feet, rashly attacked the
conqueror, and in a few moments experienced the same fate. The room
was now filled with spectators, and the fellows being brought to their
senses, intimated a disposition, jointly, to assail an antagonist,
to whom they had been, severally, so unequal; and to some menacing
words, Hamilton coolly replied, “that they were the aggressors, he
believed, in a mistake; but if they began again, he should have them
severely punished, in two different actions, for forcible entrance,
and assault.” The master now recollecting his acquaintance in the next
room, hastily went out, and returning, called, “Jem, Jem, the prisoner
is gone, let us haste away.” “But,” said the landlord, who knew the
gentleman that he was pursuing, “you shall not hasten away, you have
made a riot in my house, and one of you has broken open a lock;” and
calling two watchmen, who were in waiting for the purpose, he gave
charge of the two prisoners. The event of this business was fatal to
the catchpole; the person arrested had writs in the office against
him for two thousand pounds, on account of a security, into which he
had been villainously trepanned. He had procured an appointment at
Hamburgh, and was preparing that very night to set off for Yarmouth,
and a chaise was in waiting to carry him to the first stage, to join
the mail, when he conceived all his prospects blasted by the arrest;
but when the fellow left him, he hastily entered his carriage, and
drove at full speed to Stratford; reached Yarmouth; and found the
packet just sailing. The bailiffs being detained in captivity till the
next morning, for want of bail, were not able to take measures for
pursuit, till it was too late. Proof was easily found by the plaintiff,
that the defendant had actually been in custody; accordingly, recourse
was had upon the sheriff,--the bailiff of course was ruined; to escape
the Fleet, took to the highway, and from the Drop left a lesson to the
brotherhood, to refrain from brutal execution of just and beneficial
laws.
But to return from this episode. Dr. Scribble was much alarmed with the
thoughts of Hamilton’s displeasure, and frightened, even to tremor,
after beholding his terrible prowess; to avert his anger, he was
willing to make the humblest concessions. Commencing a penitent and
deprecatory speech, he was suddenly interrupted by our hero, who,
shaking him cordially by the hand, told him to think no more of it,
assuring him, that he should not himself, and acknowledged that he
had rather been the aggressor, by his strictures upon Dr. Scribble’s
talents and erudition. Quite delighted with this explanation,
Scribble’s eyes sparkled; “and so you allow me, my dear Hamilton, to
have extraordinary genius and learning.” “Yes, yes, I do; but suppose
we have coffee, we have had wine enough,” “Oh, not yet,” says Scribble;
“we must have another bottle for our reconciliation.” Hamilton never
exceeded a bottle from choice; yet, when conviviality invited, could
drink double the quantity, without intoxication; and now consented.
They enjoyed themselves very sociably, conversing chiefly upon the
adventure of the catchpoles; Scribble assuring Hamilton, he could have
encountered any of them with a small sword; but he believed they would
have been an over-match for him at boxing. Without investigating this
question, Hamilton said, he thought the most important part of the
adventure to Scribble, was the object of the pursuit. “Do you think
that this fellow, Lawhunt, can pay you for so voluminous a work as this
must prove?” Scribble, archly winking, went and shut the door, which
happened to be ajar: “Oh no, he will not be able to go through with
it; but let him begin it, that’s enough, it will not be lost, Billy
Nincompoop will take it up--Billy’s the man. If any one starts an idea,
Bill out with his tablets--down with it--makes it his own. If any one
broaches a new book, Billy out with another upon the same subject, like
an opposition stage-coach, so that you will see that Nincompoop will be
the chap for German literature. I have engaged with this stupid beast,
Lawhunt, for two volumes, and have got bills in advance.” “It would
appear,” observed Hamilton, “from his own acknowledgement, that his
bills are not very punctually honoured,” “Oh, I made allowance for that
in our bargain; he agreed to fifty _per cent_ more than any body else
could give.” “How did you manage that with him, Doctor?” “Very easily;
I shall suppose a work worth a guinea _per_ sheet.” “Very moderate
indeed.” “Oh it’s very good pay; if it were such as I would do for Bill
for one guinea, I would ask Lawhunt two; he knowing nothing of the
matter, being a low mechanic, and addicted to hagling, would chiefly
bend his thoughts to beating me down. I, after much difficulty, would
give up first half-a-crown, then another half-crown, at last, well,
my good friend, Jeffery, you are an honourable man, but lower than
the half guinea, by God, I will not go. He agrees, chuckling all the
while, in the idea of having cheated me of half-a-guinea _per_ sheet,
and I have the odd fifty _per cent._ to meet the law expences that may
occur in the recovery.” Scribble having thus explained his mode of
bargaining, to his own thorough satisfaction, the conversation took a
turn to some topic of the day, that required reference to an evening
paper, in quest of which our hero proceeded to the coffee-room, when
a voice called Hamilton, and turning, he beheld his admired friend,
Dr. William Strongbrain. Telling him he was engaged in the next room
with Doctor Scribble, “Scribble,” repeated Strongbrain, “a poor stupid
animal; how the devil can you associate with that fellow?” “Never
mind his stupidity now; but come in for half an hour with us to the
other room.” Strongbrain having agreed to this invitation, Hamilton
recalled an order, which he had just given for coffee, and desired
another bottle of Port to be substituted in it’s place. Strongbrain had
been dining in a party, and like our hero, was exhilirated, without
any approach to intoxication. Doctor Scribble was farther advanced:
perceiving Strongbrain enter with Hamilton, Dr. Scribble ran up, took
him by the hand, and expressed the pleasure he had in meeting with a
man of so great ability; “I understand you are engaged in criticism,
politics, history, and philosophy, and really your works, in several
respects, meet my approbation. Let me recommend to you some essays
that I am writing, and it will greatly improve your views, your
arrangement, and language.” One of the predominant companionable
qualities of Strongbrain, was good humour; the preceptorial directions,
therefore, of Dr. Scribble, excited a good-natured smile; but no angry
or indignant sensation. Scribble was suffered to talk, and grew greater
and greater with every glass that he swallowed, till at last his
greatness had a fall _under the table_. Having consigned the learned
Doctor to the care of the waiter, Hamilton and Strongbrain departed to
their respective homes.