ortable prospect of eating it still in
the shape of a pension after their sires are dead. Papa (ex uno disce
omnes) living as quietly as he can; not exactly enviably it is true,
being now and then seen to cast an uneasy and furtive glance behind, even
as an animal is wont who has lost by some mischance a very sightly
appendage; as quietly however as he can, and as dignifiedly, a great
admirer of every genteel thing and genteel personage, the Duke in
particular, whose 'Despatches,' bound in red morocco, you will find on
his table. A disliker of coarse expressions and extremes of every kind,
with a perfect horror for revolutions and attempts to revolutionize,
exclaiming now and then, as a shriek escapes from whipped and bleeding
Hungary, a groan from gasping Poland, and a half-stifled curse from
down-trodden but scowling Italy, 'Confound the revolutionary canaille,
why can't it be quiet!' In a word, putting one in mind of the parvenu in
the 'Walpurgis Nacht.' The writer is no admirer of Gothe, but the idea
of that parvenu was certainly a good one. Yes, putting one in mind of
the individual who says:

'Wir waren wahrlich auch nicht dumm,
Und thaten oft was wir nicht sollten;
Doch jetzo kehrt sich alles um und um,
Und eben da wir's fest erhalten wollten.'

('We were no fools, as every one discern'd,
And stopp'd at nought our projects in fulfilling;
But now the world seems topsy-turvy turn'd,
To keep it quiet just when we were willing.')

Now, this class of individuals entertain a mortal hatred for 'Lavengro'
and its writer, and never lose an opportunity of vituperating both. It
is true that such hatred is by no means surprising. There is certainly a
great deal of difference between Lavengro and their own sons; the one
thinking of independence and philology, whilst he is clinking away at
kettles, and hammering horse-shoes in dingles; the others stuck up at
public offices with gilt chains at their waistcoat-pockets, and giving
themselves the airs and graces of females of a certain description. And
there certainly _is_ a great deal of difference between the author of
'Lavengro' and themselves--he retaining his principles and his brush;
they with scarlet breeches on, it is true, but without their
republicanism and their tails. Oh, the writer can well afford to be
vituperated by your pseudo-Radicals of '32!

Some time ago the writer was set upon by an old Radical {371} an