es the origin of the Etrurians and the Scandinavians. But, if we
give him so much, we must give him more, and deduce from the same origin
the Es of the Celt, and the Ized of the Persian, and--what will be of
more use to him, I dare say, poor man, than all the rest put
together--the AEs of the Romans, that is, the God of Copper-Money--a very
powerful household god he is to this day!"

My mother looked musingly at her frock, as if she were taking my father's
Proposition into serious consideration.

"So, perhaps," resumed my father, "and not unconformably with sacred
records, from one great parent horde came all these various tribes,
carrying with them the name of their beloved Asia; and whether they
wandered north, south, or west, exalting their own emphatic designation
of 'Children of the Land of Light' into the title of gods. And to think,
(added Mr. Caxton pathetically, gazing upon that speck in the globe on
which his forefinger rested,)--to think how little they changed for the
better when they got to the Don, or entangled their rafts amidst the
icebergs of the Baltic--so comfortably off as they were here, if they
could but have stayed quiet!"

"And why the deuce could not they?" asked Mr. Squills.

"Pressure of population, and not enough to live upon, I suppose," said my
father.

_Pisistratus_, sulkily.--"More probably they did away with the Corn Laws,
sir."

"Papae!" quoth my father, "that throws a new light on the subject."

_Pisistratus_, full of his grievances, and not caring three straws about
the origin of the Scandinavians.--"I know that if we are to lose L500
every year on a farm which we hold rent free, and which the best judges
allow to be a perfect model for the whole country, we had better make
haste and turn AEsar or Aser, or whatever you call them, and fix a
settlement on the property of other nations, otherwise I suspect our
probable settlement will be on the parish."

_Mr. Squills_, who, it must be remembered, is an enthusiastic
Free-trader.--"You have only got to put more capital on the land."

_Pisistratus_.--"Well, Mr. Squills, as you think so well of that
investment, put _your_ capital on it. I promise that you shall have every
shilling of profit."

_Mr. Squills_, hastily retreating behind _The Times_.--"I don't think the
Great Western can fall any lower; though it is hazardous--I can but
venture a few hundreds--"

_Pisistratus_.--"On our land, Squills? Thank you."

_Mr. Squills_.