PARSON.—“By its results: it leaves us happier and better. What can any instruction do more? Some works instruct through the head, some through the heart. The last reach the widest circle, and often produce the most genial influence on the character. This book belongs to the last. You will grant my proposition when you have read it.”
Randal smiled and took the volume.
MRS. DALE.—“Is the author known yet?”
RANDAL.—“I have heard it ascribed to many writers, but I believe no one has claimed it.”
PARSON.—“I think it must have been written by my old college friend, Professor Moss, the naturalist,—its descriptions of scenery are so accurate.”
MRS. DALE.—“La, Charles dear! that snuffy, tiresome, prosy professor? How can you talk such nonsense? I am sure the author must be young, there is so much freshness of feeling.”
MRS. HAZELDEAN (positively).—“Yes, certainly, young.”
PARSON (no less positively).—“I should say just the contrary. Its tone is too serene, and its style too simple, for a young man. Besides, I don’t know any young man who would send me his book, and this book has been sent me, very handsomely bound, too, you see. Depend upon it Moss is the loan—quite his turn of mind.”
MRS. DALE.—“You are too provoking, Charles dear! Mr. Moss is so remarkably plain, too.”
RANDAL.—“Must an author be handsome?”