pancy of his
young aide-de-camp, and was, indeed, better pleased with Pen's light and
brilliant flashes, than with the heavier metal which his elder coadjutor
brought to bear.

But though he might justly be blamed on the score of impertinence and a
certain prematurity of judgment, Mr. Pen was a perfectly honest critic;
a great deal too candid for Mr. Bungay's purposes, indeed, who grumbled
sadly at his impartiality. Pen and his chief, the Captain, had a dispute
upon this subject one day. "In the name of common-sense, Mr. Pendennis,"
Shandon asked, "what have you been doing--praising one of Mr. Bacon's
books? Bungay has been with me in a fury this morning at seeing a
laudatory article upon one of the works of the odious firm over the
way."

Pen's eyes opened with wide astonishment. "Do you mean to say," he
asked, "that we are to praise no books that Bacon publishes: or that, if
the books are good, we are to say they are bad?"

"My good young friend--for what do you suppose a benevolent publisher
undertakes a critical journal, to benefit his rival?" Shandon inquired.

"To benefit himself certainly, but to tell the truth too," Pen said,
"ruat coelum, to tell the truth."

"And my prospectus," said Shandon, with a laugh and a sner; "do you
consider that was a work of mathematical accuracy of statement?"

"Pardon me, that is not the question," Pen said "and I don't think you
very much care to argue it. I had some qualms of conscience about that
same prospectus, and debated the matter with my friend Warrington. We
agreed, however," Pen said, laughing "that because the prospectus was
rather declamatory and poetical, and the giant was painted upon the
show-board rather larger than the original, who was inside the caravan;
we need not be too scrupulous about this trifling inaccuracy, but
might do our part of the show, without loss of character or remorse of
conscience. We are the fiddlers, and play our tunes only; you are the
showman."

"And leader of the van," said Shandon. "Well, I am glad that your
conscience gave you leave to play for us."

"Yes, but," said Pen, with a fine sense of the dignity of his position,
"we are all party men in England, and I will stick to my party like a
Briton. I will be as good-natured as you like to our own side, he is a
fool who quarrels with his own nest; and I will hit the enemy as hard as
you like--but with fair play, Captain, if you please. One can't tell
all the truth, I suppose; b