ering. He could understand that a man should not call his own
goods middling; but he could not understand that a man is only
carrying out the same principle in an advanced degree, when he
proclaims with a hundred thousand voices in a hundred thousand
places, that the article which he desires to sell is the best of
its kind that the world has yet produced. He merely asserts with
his loudest voice that his middlings are not middlings. A little
man can see that he must not cry stinking fish against himself;
but it requires a great man to understand that in order to abstain
effectually from so suicidal a proclamation, he must declare with
all the voice of his lungs, that his fish are that moment hardly out
of the ocean. "It's the poetry of euphemism," Robinson once said to
Poppins;--but he might as well have talked Greek to him.

Robinson often complained that no one understood him; but he forgot
that it is the fate of great men generally to work alone, and to
be not comprehended. The higher a man raises his head, the more
necessary is it that he should learn to lean only on his own
strength, and to walk his path without even the assistance of
sympathy. The greedy Jones had friends. Poppins with his easy
epicurean laisser aller,--he had friends. The decent Brown, who would
so fain be comfortable, had friends. But for Robinson, there was no
one on whose shoulder he could rest his head, and from whose heart
and voice he could receive sympathy and encouragement.

From one congenial soul,--from one soul that he had hoped to
find congenial,--he did look for solace; but even here he was
disappointed. It has been told that Maryanne Brown did at last
consent to name the day. This occurred in May, and the day named was
in August. Robinson was very anxious to fix it at an earlier period,
and the good-natured girl would have consented to arrange everything
within a fortnight. "What's the use of shilly-shallying?" said she
to her father. "If it is to be done, let it be done at once. I'm so
knocked about among you, I hardly know where I am." But Mr. Brown
would not consent. Mr. Brown was very feeble, but yet he was very
obstinate. It would often seem that he was beaten away from his
purpose, and yet he would hang on it with more tenacity than that of
a stronger man. "Town is empty in August, George, and then you can be
spared for a run to Margate for two or three days."

"Oh, we don't want any nonsense," said Maryanne; "do we, George