ill never do for authorship; at least for this kind.'

'So I begin to think--what shall I do?'

Taggart took snuff.

'You were talking of a great work--what shall it be?'

Taggart took snuff.

'Do you think I could write one?'

Taggart uplifted his two forefingers as if to tap, he did not however.

'It would require time,' said I, with a half sigh.

Taggart tapped his box.

'A great deal of time; I really think that my ballads--'

Taggart took snuff.

'If published, would do me credit. I'll make an effort, and offer them
to some other publisher.'

Taggart took a double quantity of snuff.

CHAPTER XLII

Francis Ardry--That won't do, sir--Observe my gestures--I think you
improve--Better than politics--Delightful young Frenchwoman--A burning
shame--Magnificent impudence--Paunch--Voltaire--Lump of sugar.

Occasionally I called on Francis Ardry. This young gentleman resided in
handsome apartments in the neighbourhood of a fashionable square, kept a
livery servant, and, upon the whole, lived in very good style. Going to
see him one day, between one and two, I was informed by the servant that
his master was engaged for the moment, but that, if I pleased to wait a
few minutes, I should find him at liberty. Having told the man that I
had no objection, he conducted me into a small apartment which served as
antechamber to a drawing-room; the door of this last being half open, I
could see Francis Ardry at the farther end, speechifying and
gesticulating in a very impressive manner. The servant, in some
confusion, was hastening to close the door; but, ere he could effect his
purpose, Francis Ardry, who had caught a glimpse of me, exclaimed, 'Come
in--come in by all means'; and then proceeded, as before, speechifying
and gesticulating. Filled with some surprise, I obeyed his summons.

On entering the room I perceived another individual, to whom Francis
Ardry appeared to be addressing himself; this other was a short spare man
of about sixty; his hair was of badger gray, and his face was covered
with wrinkles--without vouchsafing me a look, he kept his eye, which was
black and lustrous, fixed full on Francis Ardry, as if paying the deepest
attention to his discourse. All of a sudden, however, he cried with a
sharp, cracked voice, 'That won't do, sir; that won't do--more
vehemence--your argument is at present particularly weak; therefore, more
vehemence--you must confuse them, stun them, stultify them, s