ain jargon giving place to some genuine Speech again. (p. 29.)--If we
walk according to the Law of this Universe, the Law-Maker will
befriend us; if not, not. Quacks, sham heroes, the one bane of the
world. Quack and Dupe, upper side and under of the selfsame substance.
(31.)

Chap. V. _Aristocracy of Talent._

All misery the fruit of unwisdom: Neither with individuals nor with
Nations is it fundamentally otherwise. Nature in late centuries
universally supposed to be dead; but now everywhere asserting herself
to be alive and miraculous. The guidance of this country not
sufficiently wise. (p. 34.)--Aristocracy of talent, or government by
the Wisest, a dreadfully difficult affair to get started. The true
_eye_ for talent; and the flunky eye for respectabilities, warm
garnitures and larders dropping fatness: Bobus and Bobissimus. (37.)

Chap VI. _Hero-worship._

Enlightened Egoism, never so luminous, not the rule by which man's
life can be led. A _soul_, different from a stomach in any sense of
the word. Hero-worship done differently in every different epoch of
the world. Reform, like Charity, must begin at home. 'Arrestment of
the knaves and dastards,' beginning by arresting our own poor selves
out of that fraternity. (p. 41.)--The present Editor's purpose to
himself full of hope. A Loadstar in the eternal sky: A glimmering of
light, for here and there a human soul. (45.)

BOOK II.--THE ANCIENT MONK.

Chap. I. _Jocelin of Brakelond._

How the Centuries stand lineally related to each other. The one Book
not permissible, the kind that has nothing in it. Jocelin's
'Chronicle,' a private Boswellean Notebook, now seven centuries old.
How Jocelin, from under his monk's cowl, looked out on that narrow
section of the world in a really _human_ manner: A wise simplicity in
him; a _veracity_ that goes deeper than words. Jocelin's Monk-Latin;
and Mr. Rokewood's editorial helpfulness and fidelity. (p. 51.)--A
veritable Monk of old Bury St. Edmunds worth attending to. This
England of ours, of the year 1200: Coeur-de-Lion: King Lackland, and
his thirteenpenny mass. The poorest historical Fact, and the grandest
imaginative Fiction. (55.)

Chap. II. _St. Edmundsbury._

St. Edmund's Bury, a prosperous brisk Town: Extensive ruins of the
Abbey still visible. Assiduous Pedantry, and its rubbish-heaps called
'History.' Another world it was, when those black ruins first saw the
sun as walls. At lowest, O dilettante fri