arch of
them. . . ."

Finally, "let the youth of London bear in mind that honesty is the best
policy. . . .

"In this happy country, where every individual has an opportunity of
raising himself to the highest office in the State, what might the
abilities of the unfortunate Hayward have accomplished for him if he had
not deviated from the paths of virtue? There is no place like London in
the world where a man of talents meets with so much encouragement and
liberality; his society is courted, and his presence gives a weight to
any company in which he appears; if supported by a good character."

But the crime was the thing. Of a different class was John Hamilton
Reynolds' "The Fancy." This book, published in 1820, would have wholly
delighted Borrow. I will quote the footnote to the "Lines to Philip
Samson, the Brummagem Youth":

"Of all the great men of this age, in poetry, philosophy, or pugilism,
there is no one of such transcendent talent as Randall;--no one who
combines the finest natural powers with the most elegant and finished
acquired ones. The late Professor Stewart (who has left the learned
ring) is acknowledged to be clever in philosophy, but he is a left-handed
metaphysical fighter at best, and cannot be relied upon at closing with
his subject. Lord Byron is a powerful poet, with a mind weighing
fourteen stone; but he is too sombre and bitter, and is apt to lose his
temper. Randall has no defect, or at best he has not yet betrayed the
appearance of one. His figure is remarkable, when _peeled_, for its
statue-like beauty, and nothing can equal the alacrity with which he uses
either hand, or the coolness with which he _receives_. His goodness on
his legs, Boxiana (a Lord Eldon in the skill and caution of his
judgments) assures us, is unequalled. He doubles up an opponent, as a
friend lately declared, as easily as though he were picking a flower or
pinching a girl's cheek. He is about to fight Jos. Hudson, who
challenged him lately at the Royal Tennis Court. Randall declared, that
'though he had declined fighting, he would _accommodate Joshua_'; a kind
and benevolent reply, which does equal honour to his head and heart. The
editor of this little volume, like Goldfinch in the 'Road to Ruin,'
'would not stay away for a thousand pounds.' He has already looked about
for a tall horse and a taxed cart, and he has some hopes of compassing a
drab coat and a white hat, for he has no wish to appear singul