ing as he stagnates and meanders along, to arrive at last a
hundred times fouler, and swollen a hundred times bigger! Benevolent men
should reflect on this.--And you Quashee, my pumpkin,--(not a bad fellow
either, this poor Quashee, when tolerably guided!)--idle Quashee, I say
you must get the Devil _sent away_ from your elbow, my poor dark friend!
In this world there will be no existence for you otherwise. No, not as
the brother of your folly will I live beside you. Please to withdraw out
of my way, if I am not to contradict your folly, and amend it, and put
it in the stocks if it will not amend. By the Eternal Maker, it is on
that footing alone that you and I can live together! And if you had
respectable traditions dated from beyond Magna Charta, or from beyond
the Deluge, to the contrary, and written sheepskins that would thatch
the face of the world,--behold I, for one individual, do not believe
said respectable traditions, nor regard said written sheepskins except
as things which _you_, till you grow wiser, will believe. Adieu,
Quashee; I will wish you better guidance than you have had of late.

On the whole, what a reflection is it that we cannot bestow on an
unworthy man any particle of our benevolence, our patronage, or whatever
resource is ours,--without withdrawing it, it and all that will grow
of it, from one worthy, to whom it of right belongs! We cannot, I
say; impossible; it is the eternal law of things. Incompetent Duncan
M'Pastehorn, the hapless incompetent mortal to whom I give the cobbling
of my boots,--and cannot find in my heart to refuse it, the poor drunken
wretch having a wife and ten children; he _withdraws_ the job from
sober, plainly competent, and meritorious Mr. Sparrowbill, generally
short of work too; discourages Sparrowbill; teaches him that he too may
as well drink and loiter and bungle; that this is not a scene for
merit and demerit at all, but for dupery, and whining flattery, and
incompetent cobbling of every description;--clearly tending to the ruin
of poor Sparrowbill! What harm had Sparrowbill done me that I should
so help to ruin him? And I couldn't save the insalvable M'Pastehorn;
I merely yielded him, for insufficient work, here and there a
half-crown,--which he oftenest drank. And now Sparrowbill also is
drinking!

Justice, Justice: woe betides us everywhere when, for this reason or
for that, we fail to do justice! No beneficence, benevolence, or other
virtuous contribution wil