totle, by Newton, by the Devil;
and I permit them to feel, for I know they cannot get on without it, that
their reasons are such as none but a knave or a sinner can resist. But
_they_ are content with cutting a slice each out of my character: neither
of them is more than an uncle, a Bone-a-part; I now come to a dreadful
nephew, Bone-the-whole.

I will not give the name of the poor fellow who has fallen so far below
both the _honestum_ and the _utile_, to say nothing of the _decorum_ or the
_dulce_.[662] He is the fourth who has taken elaborate notice of me; and my
advice to him would be, _Nec quarta loqui persona laboret_.[663] According
to him, I scorn humanity, scandalize learning, and disgrace the press; it
admits of no manner of doubt that my object is to mislead the public and
silence truth, at the expense of the interests of science, the wealth of
the nation, and the lives of my fellow men. The only thing left to be
settled is, whether this is due to ignorance, natural distaste for truth,
personal malice, a wish to curry favor with the Astronomer Royal, or mere
toadyism. The only accusation which has truth in it is, that I have made
myself a "public scavenger of science": the assertion, which is the {363}
most false of all is, that the results of my broom and spade are "shot
right in between the columns of" the _Athenaeum_. I declare I never in my
life inserted a word between the columns of the _Athenaeum_: I feel huffed
and miffed at the very supposition. I _have_ made myself a public
scavenger; and why not? Is the mud never to be collected into a heap? I
look down upon the other scavengers, of whom there have been a few--mere
historical drudges; Montucla, Hutton, etc.--as not fit to compete with me.
I say of them what one crossing-sweeper said of the rest: "They are well
enough for the common thing; but put them to a bit of fancy-work, such as
sweeping round a post, and see what a mess they make of it!" Who can touch
me at sweeping round a paradoxer? If I complete my design of publishing a
separate work, an old copy will be fished up from a stall two hundred years
hence by the coming man, and will be described in an article which will end
by his comparing our century with his own, and sighing out in the best New
Zealand pronunciation--

"Dans ces tems-la
C'etait deja comme ca!"[664]

ORTHODOX PARADOXERS.

And pray, Sir! I have been asked by more than one--do your orthodox never
fall into mistake, nor