e crunched the bones of victim after victim; in whose
closets lie skeletons picked frightfully clean. When these ogres come
out into the world, you don't suppose they show their knives, and their
great teeth? A neat simple white neck-cloth, a merry rather obsequious
manner, a cadaverous look, perhaps, now and again, and a rather dreadful
grin; but I know ogres very considerably respected: and when you hint to
such and such a man, "My dear sir, Mr. Sharpus, whom you appear to like,
is, I assure you, a most dreadful cannibal;" the gentleman cries, "Oh,
psha, nonsense! Dare say not so black as he is painted. Dare say
not worse than his neighbors." We condone everything in this
country--private treason, falsehood, flattery, cruelty at home, roguery,
and double dealing. What! Do you mean to say in your acquaintance you
don't know ogres guilty of countless crimes of fraud and force, and that
knowing them you don't shake hands with them; dine with them at your
table; and meet them at their own? Depend upon it, in the time when
there were real live ogres in real caverns or castles, gobbling up real
knights and virgins, when they went into the world--the neighboring
market-town, let us say, or earl's castle--though their nature and
reputation were pretty well known, their notorious foibles were never
alluded to. You would say, "What, Blunderbore, my boy! How do you do?
How well and fresh you look! What's the receipt you have for keeping so
young and rosy?" And your wife would softly ask after Mrs. Blunderbore
and the dear children. Or it would be, "My dear Humguffin! try that
pork. It is home-bred, homefed, and, I promise you, tender. Tell me if
you think it is as good as yours? John, a glass of Burgundy to Colonel
Humguffin!" You don't suppose there would be any unpleasant allusions to
disagreeable home-reports regarding Humguffin's manner of furnishing
his larder? I say we all of us know ogres. We shake hands and dine with
ogres. And if inconvenient moralists tell us we are cowards for our
pains, we turn round with a tu quoque, or say that we don't meddle with
other folk's affairs; that people are much less black than they are
painted, and so on. What! Won't half the county go to Ogreham Castle?
Won't some of the clergy say grace at dinner? Won't the mothers bring
their daughters to dance with the young Rawheads? And if Lady Ogreham
happens to die--I won't say to go the way of all flesh, that is
too revolting--I say if Ogreham i