There is no greater mistake than to suppose that fairies, champions,
distressed damsels, and by consequence ogres, have ceased to exist. It
may not be OGREABLE to them (pardon the horrible pleasantry, but as I am
writing in the solitude of my chamber, I am grinding my teeth--yelling,
roaring, and cursing--brandishing my scissors and paper-cutter, and as
it were, have become an ogre). I say there is no greater mistake than
to suppose that ogres have ceased to exist. We all KNOW ogres. Their
caverns are round us, and about us. There are the castles of several
ogres within a mile of the spot where I write. I think some of them
suspect I am an ogre myself. I am not: but I know they are. I visit
them. I don't mean to say that they take a cold roast prince out of the
cupboard, and have a cannibal feast before ME. But I see the bones
lying about the roads to their houses, and in the areas and gardens.
Politeness, of course, prevents me from making any remarks; but I know
them well enough. One of the ways to know 'em is to watch the scared
looks of the ogres' wives and children. They lead an awful life. They
are present at dreadful cruelties. In their excesses those ogres will
stab about, and kill not only strangers who happen to call in and ask
a night's lodging, but they will outrage, murder, and chop up their own
kin. We all know ogres, I say, and have been in their dens often. It is
not necessary that ogres who ask you to dine should offer their guests
the PECULIAR DISH which they like. They cannot always get a Tom Thumb
family. They eat mutton and beef too; and I dare say even go out to tea,
and invite you to drink it. But I tell you there are numbers of them
going about in the world. And now you have my word for it, and this
little hint, it is quite curious what an interest society may be made to
have for you, by your determining to find out the ogres you meet there.

What does the man mean? says Mrs. Downright, to whom a joke is a very
grave thing. I mean, madam, that in the company assembled in your
genteel drawing-room, who bow here and there and smirk in white
neck-cloths, you receive men who elbow through life successfully enough,
but who are ogres in private: men wicked, false, rapacious, flattering;
cruel hectors at home, smiling courtiers abroad; causing wives,
children, servants, parents, to tremble before them, and smiling and
bowing as they bid strangers welcome into their castles. I say, there
are men who hav