young lawyer, "and mine alone; Venus alone
shall quit her station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of my
promise to you; what is death to me? what is all this warlike army,
if it is not to win a victory? I love the sleep of the lover and the
mighty; nor would I give it over till the blood of my enemies should
wreak with that of my own. But God forbid that our fame should soar
on the blood of the slumberer." Mr. Valeer stands at his door with the
frown of a demon upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon (3) ready to
strike the first man who should enter his door. "Who will arise and go
forward through blood and carnage to the rescue of my Ambulinia?" said
Elfonzo. "All," exclaimed the multitude; and onward they went, with
their implements of battle. Others, of a more timid nature, stood among
the distant hills to see the result of the contest.

It will hardly be believed that after all this thunder and lightning not
a drop of rain fell; but such is the fact. Elfonzo and his gang stood up
and black-guarded Mr. Valeer with vigor all night, getting their outlay
back with interest; then in the early morning the army and its general
retired from the field, leaving the victory with their solitary
adversary and his crowbar. This is the first time this has happened in
romantic literature. The invention is original. Everything in this book
is original; there is nothing hackneyed about it anywhere. Always, in
other romances, when you find the author leading up to a climax, you
know what is going to happen. But in this book it is different; the
thing which seems inevitable and unavoidable never happens; it is
circumvented by the art of the author every time.

Another elopement was attempted. It failed.

We have now arrived at the end. But it is not exciting. McClintock
thinks it is; but it isn't. One day Elfonzo sent Ambulinia another
note--a note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the plan is
admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, imaginative, deep--oh,
everything, and perfectly easy. One wonders why it was never thought of
before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to leave the breakfast-table,
ostensibly to "attend to the placing of those flowers, which should have
been done a week ago"--artificial ones, of course; the others wouldn't
keep so long--and then, instead of fixing the flowers, she is to walk
out to the grove, and go off with Elfonzo. The invention of this plan
overstrained the author that is plain, f