had a
relationship with my forensic which at times has touched cordiality.
Influential he has not been, for his colleague has always had the
upper hand and been in the public eye. He may have instigated to
mischief, but has not often been allowed to complete his purpose. If I
am a respectable person it is not his fault. He seeks no man's
respect. If he has occasionally lent himself to moral ends, it has
been without enthusiasm, for he has no morals of his own, and never
did have any. On the other hand, he is by nature too indifferent to
temporal circumstances to go about to corrupt his partner. His main
desire has ever been to be let alone. Anything which tended to tighten
the bonds which held him to his co-tenant would have been a thing to
avoid. He desires liberty, and nothing less will content him. This he
will only have by inaction, by mewing his sempiternal youth in his
cage and on his perch.

But the tie uniting the pair of us is of such a nature that neither
can be uninfluenced by the other. It is just that you should hear both
sides of the case. My forensic, eating and arguing self has bullied my
other into hypocrisy over and over again. He has starved him, deprived
him of his holidays, ignored him, ridiculed him, snubbed him
mercilessly. This is severe treatment, you'll allow, and it's worse
even than it seems. For the unconscionable fellow, owing to this
coheirship which he pretends to disesteem, has been made privy to
experiences which must not only have been extraordinary to so plain
and humdrum a person, but which have been, as I happen to know, of
great importance to him, and which--to put the thing at its
highest--have lifted him, dull dog as he is, into regions where the
very dogs have wings. Out upon it! But he has been in and out with his
victim over leagues of space where not one man in ten thousand has
been privileged to fare. He has been familiar all his life with
scenes, with folk, with deeds undreamed of by thirty-nine and
three-quarters out of forty millions of people, and by that
quarter-million only known as nursery tales. Not only so, but he has
been awakened to the significance of common things, having at hand an
interpreter, and been enabled to be precise where Wordsworth was
vague. He has known Zeus in the thunder, in the lightning beheld the
shaking of the dread AEgis. In the river source he has seen the
breasted nymph; he has seen the Oreads stream over the bare hillside.
There are men