Mr. Squills, who, it must be remembered, is an enthusiastic free-trader—“You have only got to put more capital on the land.”
Pisistratus.—“Well, Mr. Squills, as you think so well of that investment, put your capital [pg 660] on it. I promise that you shall have every shilling of profit.”
Mr. Squills, hastily retreating behind The Times—“I don't think the Great Western can fall any lower: though it is hazardous—I can but venture a few hundreds—”
Pisistratus.—“On our land, Squills? Thank you.”
Mr. Squills.—“No, no—any thing but that—on the Great Western.”
Pisistratus relapses into gloom. Blanche steals up coaxingly, and gets snubbed for her pains.
A pause.
Mr. Caxton.—“There are two golden rules of life: one relates to the mind, and the other to the pockets. The first is—If our thoughts get into a low, nervous, aguish condition, we should make them change the air; the second is comprised in the proverb, ‘it is good to have two strings to one's bow.’ Therefore, Pisistratus, I tell you what you must do—write a book!”
Pisistratus.—“Write a book!—Against the abolition of the Corn Laws? Faith, sir, the mischief's done. It takes a much better pen than mine to write down an act of Parliament.”
Mr. Caxton.—“I only said, ‘Write a book.’ All the rest is the addition of your own headlong imagination.”