ou want your poem to be understood by the
average intellect, I really would sink the scientific terminology, and
throw overboard a good deal of the metaphysics. Byron has not a
scientific or technical phrase in all his poems."
"My dear Roderick, you surely would not compare me to Byron, the poet
of he Philistines. You might as well compare me with the author of
'Lalla Rookh,' or advise me to write like Rogers or Campbell."
"I beg your pardon, my dear Mabel. I'm afraid I must be an out and out
Philistine, for to my mind Byron is the prince of poets. I would rather
have written 'The Giaour' than anything that has ever been published
since it appeared."
"My poor Roderick!" exclaimed Mabel, with a pitying sigh. "You might as
well say you would be proud of having written 'The Pickwick Papers'."
"And so I should!" cried Rorie heartily. "I should think no end of
myself if I had invented Winkle. Do you remember his ride from
Rochester to Dingley Dell?--one of the finest things that was ever
written."
And this incorrigible young man flung himself back in the low
arm-chair, and laughed heartily at the mere recollection of that
episode in the life of the famous Nathaniel. Mabel Ashbourne closed her
manuscript volume with a sigh, and registered an oath that she would
never read any more of her poetry to Roderick Vawdrey. It was quite
useless. The poor young man meant well, but he was incorrigibly
stupid--a man who admired Byron and Dickens, and believed Macaulay the
first of historians.
"In the realm of thought we must dwell apart all our lives," Mabel told
herself despairingly.
"The horses are ordered for five," she said, as she locked the precious
volume in her desk; "will you get yours and come back for me?"
"I shall be delighted," answered her lover, relieved at being let off
so easily.
It was about this time that Lord Mallow, who was working with all his
might for the regeneration of his country, made a great hit in the
House by his speech on the Irish land question. He had been doing
wonderful things in Dublin during the winter, holding forth to
patriotic assemblies in the Round Room of the Rotunda, boldly declaring
himself a champion of the Home Rulers' cause, demanding Repeal and
nothing but Repeal. He was one of the few Repealers who had a stake in
the country, and who was likely to lose by the disruption of social
order. If foolish, he was at least disinterested, and had the courage
of his opinions. T
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