Pisistratus, sulkily.—"More probably they did away with the Corn Laws, sir."
"Papæ!" quoth my father, "that throws a new light on the subject."
Pisistratus, full of his grievances, and not caring three straws about the origin of the Scandinavians.—"I know that if we are to lose £500 every year on a farm which we hold rent free, and which the best judges allow to be a perfect model for the whole country, we had better make haste and turn Æsar or Aser, or whatever you call them, and fix a settlement on the property of other nations, otherwise I suspect our probable settlement will be on the parish."
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 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—anything 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!"