he makes
wild work with logic; and seems to jump at most admirable conclusions
by some process, not at all akin to it. Consonantly enough to this,
he hath been heard to deny, upon certain occasions, that there exists
such a faculty at all in man as _reason_; and wondereth how man came
first to have a conceit of it--enforcing his negation with all the
might of _reasoning_ he is master of. He has some speculative notions
against laughter, and will maintain that laughing is not natural
to _him_--when peradventure the next moment his lungs shall crow
like Chanticleer. He says some of the best things in the world--and
declareth that wit is his aversion. It was he who said, upon seeing
the Eton boys at play in their grounds--_What a pity to think, that
these fine ingenuous lads in a few years will all be changed into
frivolous Members of Parliament!_

His youth was fiery, glowing, tempestuous--and in age he discovereth
no symptom of cooling. This is that which I admire in him. I hate
people who meet Time half-way. I am for no compromise with that
inevitable spoiler. While he lives, J.E. will take his swing.--It does
me good, as I walk towards the street of my daily avocation, on some
fine May morning, to meet him marching in a quite opposite direction,
with a jolly handsome presence, and shining sanguine face, that
indicates some purchase in his eye--a Claude--or a Hobbima--for much
of his enviable leisure is consumed at Christie's, and Phillips's--or
where not, to pick up pictures, and such gauds. On these occasions
he mostly stoppeth me, to read a short lecture on the advantage a
person like me possesses above himself, in having his time occupied
with business which he _must do_--assureth me that he often feels
it hang heavy on his hands--wishes he had fewer holidays--and goes
off--Westward Ho!--chanting a tune, to Pall Mall--perfectly convinced
that he has convinced me--while I proceed in my opposite direction
tuneless.

It is pleasant again to see this Professor of Indifference doing the
honours of his new purchase, when he has fairly housed it. You must
view it in every light, till _he_ has found the best--placing it at
this distance, and at that, but always suiting the focus of your sight
to his own. You must spy at it through your fingers, to catch the
aerial perspective--though you assure him that to you the landscape
shows much more agreeable without that artifice. Wo be to the luckless
wight, who does not only n