Caxton.--"O literal ratiocinator, and dull to the true logic of
Attic irony! can't you comprehend that an affection may be genuine as
felt by the man, yet its nature be spurious in relation to others? A man
may generally believe he loves his fellow-creatures when he roasts
them like Torquemada, or guillotines them like St. Just! Happily Jack's
scalene triangle, being more produced from air than from fire, does not
give to his philanthropy the inflammatory character which distinguishes
the benevolence of inquisitors and revolutionists. The philanthropy,
therefore, takes a more flatulent and innocent form, and expends its
strength in mounting paper balloons, out of which Jack pitches himself,
with all the fellow-creatures he can coax into sailing with him. No
doubt Uncle Jack's philanthropy is sincere when he cuts the string
and soars up out of sight; but the sincerity will not much mend their
bruises when himself and fellow-creatures come tumbling down neck and
heels. It must be a very wide heart that can take in all mankind,--and
of a very strong fibre to bear so much stretching. Such hearts there
are, Heaven be thanked! and all praise to them. Jack's is not of that
quality. He is a scalene triangle. He is not a circle! And yet, if he
would but let it rest, it is a good heart,--a very good heart [continued
my father, warming into a tenderness quite infantine, all things
considered]. Poor Jack! that was prettily said of him--'That if he were
a dog, and he had no home but a dog kennel, he would turn out to give me
the best of the straw!' Poor brother Jack!"

So the discussion was dropped; and in the mean while, Uncle Jack, like
the short-faced gentleman in the "Spectator," "distinguished himself by
a profound silence."

CHAPTER III.

Blanche has contrived to associate herself, if not with my more active
diversions,--in running over the country and making friends with the
farmers,--still in all my more leisurely and domestic pursuits. There is
about her a silent charm that it is very hard to define; but it seems to
arise from a kind of innate sympathy with the moods and humors of those
she loves. If one is gay, there is a cheerful ring in her silver laugh
that seems gladness itself; if one is sad, and creeps away into a corner
to bury one's head in one's hand and muse, by and by, and just at
the right moment, when one has mused one's fill, and the heart wants
something to refresh and restore it, one feels two inno