s had not appeared with his own name in the
Spring Annual, but under an assumed signature. As he had refused
to review the book, Shandon had handed it over to Mr. Bludyer,
with directions to that author to dispose of it. And he had done so
effectually. Mr. Bludyer, who was a man of very considerable talent, and
of a race which, I believe, is quite extinct in the press of our time,
had a certain notoriety in his profession, and reputation for savage
humour. He smashed and trampled down the poor spring flowers with no
more mercy than a bull would have on a parterre; and having cut up the
volume to his heart's content, went and sold it at a bookstall, and
purchased a pint of brandy with the proceeds of the volume.

CHAPTER XXXVII. Where Pen appears in Town and Country

Let us be allowed to pass over a few months of the history of Mr. Arthur
Pendennis's lifetime, during the which, many events may have occurred
which were more interesting and exciting to himself, than they would be
likely to prove to the reader of his present memoirs. We left him, in
his last chapter, regularly entered upon his business as a professional
writer, or literary hack, as Mr. Warrington chooses to style himself and
his friend; and we know how the life of any hack, legal or literary, in
a curacy, or in a marching regiment, or at a merchant's desk, is dull of
routine, and tedious of description. One day's labour resembles another
much too closely. A literary man has often to work for his bread
against time, or against his will, or in spite of his health, or of his
indolence, or of his repugnance to the subject on which he is called to
exert himself, just like any other daily toiler. When you want to
make money by Pegasus (as he must, perhaps, who has no other saleable
property), farewell poetry and aerial flights: Pegasus only rises now
like Mr. Green's balloon, at periods advertised beforehand, and when
the spectator's money has been paid. Pegasus trots in harness, over the
stony pavement, and pulls a cart or a cab behind him. Often Pegasus does
his work with panting sides and trembling knees, and not seldom gets a
cut of the whip from his driver.

Do not let us, however, be too prodigal of our pity upon Pegasus. There
is no reason why this animal should be exempt from labour, or illness,
or decay, any more than any of the other creatures of God's world. If he
gets the whip, Pegasus often deserves it, and I for one am quite ready
to prote