HE gentle reader, who may wax unkind,
And, caring little for the author's ease,
Insist on knowing what he means—a hard
And hapless situation for a bard.
Lord Byron, Beppo.
Y dear, when you have a clergyman in your family you must accommodate your tastes: I did that very early. When I married Humphrey, I made up my mind to like sermons, and I set out by liking the end very much. That soon spread to the middle and the beginning, because I couldn't have the end without them.
Mrs. Cadwallader, in George Eliot's Middlemarch.
REAT theologians, talk not of Trinity:
Heretics, plague us no more with your fibs;
One question only, Which is the Divinity,—
Willcox or Gibbs?
Mortimer Collins, The British Birds.
S that the contents you are looking at?" inquired an anxious author, who saw Rogers's eye fixed on a table or list at the commencement of a presentation copy of a new work. "No," said Rogers, pointing to the list of subscribers, "the dis-contents."