dollars would be
money enough to repair them? Of course, I can commit highway robbery,
if it be absolutely necessary. My dear Mrs. Gamp, I fully appreciate
the propriety of your suggestions. You want one quart of gin;--I
comprehend. Shall it be your Hollands, your Aromatic Scheidam, your
Nantz, or our own proud Columbian article? You want one quart of rum,
_potus e saccharo confectus!_ You want one quart of brandy. You
want one gallon of wine. You want a dozen of brown-stout. You
want the patent vulcanized India-rubber pump. You want anise,--
_pimpinella anisum_;--I comprehend. You want castor-oil,--a very
fine medicine indeed,--I tasted it myself when a boy. You want
magnesia. You want the patent Vesuvian night-lamp. Madam, that
volcanic utensil shall be forthcoming.

Do I rave, Don Bob? Has reason caught the royal trick of the century,
and left her throne? Let me be calm, as becometh one suddenly
swelled into ancestral proportions! This small lump of red clay
shall inherit my name, and my estate, which I now seriously purpose
to acquire. For her will I labor. For her I will gorge "The Clarion"
with leading articles. For her I will write the long dreamed-of poem
in twenty-four parts. For her I will besiege the private dens of my
friends the booksellers. Dear, helpless little atomy! infinitesimal
object of love! bud, germ, seed, blossom, tidbit, morsel, mannikin,
tomtit, abbreviation, concentration, quintessence! tiny _multum in
parvo!_ charming diamond edition! thou small, red possibility!
weeping promise of glad days to come! For thee will I put the world
under contribution! For thee will I master 'pathy and 'logy and
'nomy and 'sophy! All was and is for thee! For thee sages have
written; for thee science has toiled; for thee looms are clanking,
ships are sailing, and strong men laboring! Thou art born to a
fortune better than one of gold! I am but thy servant, to bring all
treasures and lay them at thy feet! Be remorseless, exacting, greedy
of our love and our lore! Come, young queen, into thy queendom! All
is thine!

Bobus, my friend, you undoubtedly think that I am beside myself. You
are a tough, knotty old tree, and I have only one tender shoot. You
may sneer, or you may pity,--I care not one baubee for your praise
or your blame. I shall take my own course. I feel my responsibility,
Sir! I shall not come to you for advice! I shall pursue the path of
duty, Sir!--Come to you, forsooth! What could you give? A lot