--superlative Benson--has turned his shoulders upon
Raynham. None know whither he has departed. It is believed that the sole
surviving member of the sect of the Shaddock-Dogmatists is under a total
eclipse of Woman."

"Benson gone?" Richard exclaimed. "What a tremendous time it seems since
I left Raynham!"

"So it is, my dear boy. The honeymoon is Mahomet's minute; or say, the
Persian King's water-pail that you read of in the story: You dip your
head in it, and when you draw it out, you discover that you have lived a
life. To resume your uncle Algernon still roams in pursuit of the lost
one--I should say, hops. Your uncle Hippias has a new and most perplexing
symptom; a determination of bride-cake to the nose. Ever since your
generous present to him, though he declares he never consumed a morsel of
it, he has been under the distressing illusion that his nose is enormous,
and I assure you he exhibits quite a maidenly timidity in following
it--through a doorway, for instance. He complains of its terrible weight.
I have conceived that Benson invisible might be sitting on it. His hand,
and the doctor's, are in hourly consultation with it, but I fear it will
not grow smaller. The Pilgrim has begotten upon it a new Aphorism: that
Size is a matter of opinion."

"Poor uncle Hippy!" said Richard, "I wonder he doesn't believe in magic.
There's nothing supernatural to rival the wonderful sensations he does
believe in. Good God! fancy coming to that!"

"I'm sure I'm very sorry," Lucy protested, "but I can't help laughing."

Charming to the wise youth her pretty laughter sounded.

"The Pilgrim has your notion, Richard. Whom does he not forestall?
'Confirmed dyspepsia is the apparatus of illusions,' and he accuses the
Ages that put faith in sorcery, of universal indigestion, which may have
been the case, owing to their infamous cookery. He says again, if you
remember, that our own Age is travelling back to darkness and ignorance
through dyspepsia. He lays the seat of wisdom in the centre of our
system, Mrs. Richard: for which reason you will understand how sensible I
am of the vast obligation I am under to you at the present moment, for
your especial care of mine."

Richard looked on at Lucy's little triumph, attributing Adrian's
subjugation to her beauty and sweetness. She had latterly received a
great many compliments on that score, which she did not care to hear, and
Adrian's homage to a practical quality was far pleasanter