a thistle than smell at a flower.

"Mr. Smith is a very excellent man," said a friend of mine one day in
conversation to Mr. Pepper.

"Yes, he may be," said Pepper in an indifferent way; "but perhaps you
don't know him as well as I do."

"What a noble gift of Lord Hill to the town of Shenton, that park of one
thousand acres!"

"True, it was; but what were his motives in its bestowment? Did he not
expect to gain more than its value in certain ways that I need not
mention?"

"How sad that the family of Hobson have come into such circumstances."

"It is only a judgment upon them for the old man's sins."

"Have you heard that young Dumas has entered the ministry?"

"Yes, and what for? Only for the loaves and fishes."

"What a kind Providence it was that provided so suitably for widow
Bonsor and her family."

"Providence, indeed! Was it not rather the benevolence of Mr. Lord and
his friend Squance?"

"What an admirable picture that is in Mr. Robinson's window in Bond
Street. It is a splendid piece of workmanship. Don't you think so?"

"A bad sky--very bad! Cold as winter. That trunk of a tree on the right
is as stiff and formal as a sign-post. It spoils the whole picture."

"Then you don't like it?"

"There are a few good points in it; but it is full of faults."

"The Rev. Mr. Benson, of Queen's-road Church, is, in my judgment, an
eloquent and powerful preacher. Don't you think so, Mr. Pepper?"

"Well, as you ask me so pointedly, I am free to say that I think him a
very good preacher _on the whole_. But, you know, he is far from
perfect. I have again and again perceived his false logic, his weak
metaphors, and his unsound expositions. Still, he is passable, and you
may go a long way before you hear a better."

Thus the censor meets you in every topic which you introduce in
conversation.

"All seems infected that the infected spy,
And all seems yellow to the jaundiced eye."

If you ask reasons for his censures, he cannot give you any, excepting
one similar in kind to the following:--

"I do not like you, Doctor Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell;
But I do not like you, Doctor Fell."

"Canting bigotry and carping criticism," says Magoon, "are usually the
product of obtuse sensibilities and a pusillanimous will. Plutarch tells
us of an idle and effeminate Etrurian, who found fault with the manner
in which Themistocles had conducted a recent campaign. 'What,' said the
hero, in reply, 'h