532 The Man of Letters. [Nov. 



" the pleasure of half an hour's conversation with a man of letters is the 

 " richest pleasure that Mrs. Bluebusk knows." 



From this there was no retreat. The girls were delighted at the 

 thought of hearing their literary friend extinguish Mrs. Bluebusk, who 

 in her time had extinguished so many smaller wits^ and thus collecting 

 for himself honours everlastings on the principle on which Harry IMon- 

 mouth, according to Shakspeare, proposed to appropriate to himself the 

 accumulated laurels of Hotspur ; and though the literary gentleman 

 himself did not much relish the invitation, I could devise no mode of 

 escape, unless he was willing altogether to resign his Eye retreat. 



" Well, Tom," said he, " if it must be, it must ; but, for Heaven's 

 sake, stand by me in the attack, for I never was superlatively given to 

 reading." 



" Don't trust to your reading," cried I. 



" I don't intend," said he. 



" Psha ! I mean — instead of trusting to your reading, draw liberally 

 on your invention ; and keep up your brow, as if you meant some- 

 thing." 



" Well, we shall see," quoth Jack, in a somewhat melancholy tone ; 

 " but I should not wonder if the old lady sank me." 



Wednesday night came, and we proceeded in a body to the abode of 

 Mrs. Bluebusk. There we found assembled some score of the elite of 

 the place and neighbourhood, for our hostess had gone beyond herself 

 in inviting all she knew, that they might be witnesses of her " half an 

 hour's conversation with a man of letters, which was the richest pleasure 

 that Mrs. Bluebusk knew." 



Scarcely was the first introduction (jver, ere the lady commenced her 

 attack upon poor Jack — or, as I had been obliged to introduce him — 

 upon Mr. Holland, the man of letters. I trembled every moment for 

 my friend, and yet was delighted to see that he acquitted himself with 

 much greater readiness than I had dared to hope. But still his peril 

 seemed as if it never would end. Mrs. Bluebusk appeared to be a 

 lineal descendant of Antaeus of old ; every time she was rebuffed, she 

 returned with fresh vigour to the charge ; and my poor friend looked 

 round him in vain for an opportunity of escaping. 



" Really," quoth Mrs. Bluebusk, " your sentiments as to Chaucer are 

 very extraordinary, and I should like to have another opportunity of 

 talking the matter over with you.'' 



" That is just my feeling. Ma'am," cried Jack ; " I think we had 

 better leave the subject alone for the present." 



" Well, then, let us choose another topic." 



" With all my soul, ma'am." 



" What say you to the !I\Iilton tribe ?" asked the lady. 



" Lord love you," cried Jack, quite briskly, " they are not to be com- 

 pared to the natives." 



'' Jack !" whispered I, in a tone of remonstrance, wondering where 

 the deuce he had got to. But I had no time. 



" Natives !" cried our hostess — " was not Milton a native }" 



" Ma'am," exclaimed Jack, suspicious of a blunder, " I thought native 

 oysters came from Colchester, and that the JMiltons were a distinct breed. 

 But, probably^ you know more than I do about oyster-beds." 



