terature, on the origin of language, on the evidences for
Christianity, and on all other sorts of unrelated topics. Hazlitt
thought that the soul of Rabelais had passed into Amory, while a more
recent critic can see in his long-winded discussions naught but the
"light-headed ramblings of delirium." If we try to read _John Buncle_
consecutively, the result is boredom; but if we open the book at
random, we are pretty sure to be interested and even sometimes
agreeably entertained.

The bizarre figure of Laurence Sterne (1713-1768) next claims our
attention. The son of a captain in the British army, he was born at
Clonmel, Co. Tipperary. Of him almost more than of any of the writers
so far dealt with, it may be said that he was Irish only by the
accident of birth. His parents were English on both sides, and
practically the whole life of their son was spent out of Ireland. He
was sent to school at Halifax, in Yorkshire, and thence went to
Cambridge University, where he graduated in due season. Taking
Anglican orders in 1738, he was immediately appointed to the benefice
of Sutton-in-the-Forest, near York, and on his marriage in 1741 with
Elizabeth Lumley he received the additional living of Stillington. He
was also given sundry prebendal and other appointments in connection
with the chapter of the archdiocese of York. He spent nearly twenty
years in the discharge of his not very onerous duties and in reading,
painting, shooting, and fiddling, without showing the least sign of
any literary leanings. Then suddenly, in 1760, he took the world by
storm with the first two volumes of _Tristram Shandy_. He at once
became the lion of the hour, was feted and dined to his heart's
content, and had his nostrils tickled with the daily incense of
praise from his numerous worshippers. He repeated the experiment with
equal success the following year with two more volumes of _Tristram_,
and so at intervals until 1767, when he published the ninth and last
volume of this most peculiar story. In 1768 he brought out _A
Sentimental Journey_, and within three weeks he died in his lodgings
in London. His other publications include _Sermons_ and _Letters_.
_Tristram Shandy_ is unique in English literature--it stands _sui
generis_ for all time. There is scarcely any consecutive narrative,
and what there is is used merely as a peg on which to hang endless
digressions. But while there are many faults of taste and morals,
there are also genuine humor an