“Well, sir, well! I think my Discourse upon Knowledge has much to do with the subject, is vitally essential to the subject; does not stop the action,—only explains and elucidates the action. And I am astonished, sir, that you, a scholar, and a cultivator of knowledge—”
“There, there!” cried my father, deprecatingly. “I yield, I yield! What better could I expect when I set up for a critic? What author ever lived that did not fly into a passion, even with his own father, if his father presumed to say, ‘Cut out’!”
MRS. CAXTON.—“My dear Austin, I am sure Pisistratus did not mean to offend you, and I have no doubt he will take your—”
PISISTRATUS (hastily).—“Advice for the future, certainly. I will quicken the action, and—”
“Go on with the Novel,” whispered Roland, looking up from his eternal account-book. “We have lost L200 by our barley!”
Therewith I plunged my pen into the ink, and my thoughts into the “Fair Shadowland.”
CHAPTER II.
“HALT, cried a voice; and not a little surprised was Leonard when the stranger who had accosted him the preceding evening got into the chaise.
“Well,” said Richard, “I am not the sort of man you expected, eh? Take time to recover yourself.” And with these words Richard drew forth a book from his pocket, threw himself back, and began to read. Leonard stole many a glance at the acute, hardy, handsome face of his companion, and gradually recognized a family likeness to poor John, in whom, despite age and infirmity, the traces of no common share of physical beauty were still evident. And, with that quick link in ideas which mathematical aptitude bestows, the young student at once conjectured that he saw before him his uncle Richard. He had the discretion, however, to leave that gentleman free to choose his own time for introducing himself, and silently revolved the new thoughts produced by the novelty of his situation. Mr. Richard read with notable quickness,—sometimes cutting the leaves of the book with his penknife, sometimes tearing them open with his forefinger, sometimes skipping whole pages altogether. Thus he galloped to the end of the volume, flung it aside, lighted his cigar, and began to talk. He put many questions to Leonard relative to his rearing, and especially to the mode by which he had acquired his education; and Leonard, confirmed in the idea that he was replying to a kinsman, answered frankly.