whereof I shall use
Lessing's saying, 'I may have my whole hand full of truth, and yet
find good to open only my little finger.' But who cares for their
coming out? They are but two more added to the five hundred, at
whose moral suicide, and dive into the Roman Avernus, a quasi-
Protestant public looks on with a sort of savage satisfaction,
crying only, 'Didn't we tell you so?'--and more than half hopes that
they will not come back again, lest they should be discovered to
have learnt anything while they were there. What are two among that
five hundred? much more among the five thousand who seem destined
shortly to follow them?

The banker, thanks to Barnakill's assistance, is rapidly getting
rich again--who would wish to stop him? However, he is wiser, on
some points at least, than he was of yore. He has taken up the flax
movement violently of late--perhaps owing to some hint of
Barnakill's--talks of nothing but Chevalier Claussen and Mr.
Donellan, and is very anxious to advance capital to any landlord who
will grow flax on Mr. Warnes's method, either in England or Ireland.
. . . John Bull, however, has not yet awakened sufficiently to
listen to his overtures, but sits up in bed, dolefully rubbing his
eyes, and bemoaning the evanishment of his protectionist dream--
altogether realising tolerably, he and his land, Dr. Watts' well-
known moral song concerning the sluggard and his garden.

Lord Minchampstead again prospers. Either the nuns of Minchampstead
have left no Nemesis behind them, like those of Whitford, or a
certain wisdom and righteousness of his, however dim and imperfect,
averts it for a time. So, as I said, he prospers, and is hated;
especially by his farmers, to whom he has just offered long leases,
and a sliding corn-rent. They would have hated him just the same if
he had kept them at rack-rents; and he has not forgotten that; but
they have. They looked shy at the leases, because they bind them to
farm high, which they do not know how to do; and at the corn-rent,
because they think that he expects wheat to rise again--which, being
a sensible man, he very probably does. But for my story--I
certainly do not see how to extricate him or any one else from
farmers' stupidity, greed, and ill-will. . . . That question must
have seven years' more free-trade to settle it, before I can say
anything thereon. Still less can I foreshadow the fate of his
eldest son, who ha