ajor
Pendennis, in which he said he should remain at Chatteris another day,
being anxious to have some talk with Messrs. Tatham, the lawyers, whom
he would meet that afternoon; but no mention was made of the transaction
in which the writer had been engaged during the morning. Indeed the note
was written at the pause after the first part of the engagement, and
when the Major had decidedly had the worst of the battle.

Pen did not care somehow to go into the town whilst his uncle was there.
He did not like to have to fancy that his guardian might be spying at
him from that abominable Dean's grass-plat, whilst he was making love
in Miss Costigan's drawing-room; and the pleasures of a walk (a delight
which he was very rarely permitted to enjoy) would have been spoiled if
he had met the man of the polished boots on that occasion. His modest
love could not show in public by any outward signs, except the eyes
(with which the poor fellow ogled and gazed violently to be sure), but
it was dumb in the presence of third parties; and so much the better,
for of all the talk which takes place in this world, that of love-makers
is surely, to the uninitiated, the most silly. It is the vocabulary
without the key; it is the lamp without the flame. Let the respected
reader look or think over some old love-letters that he (or she) has had
and forgotten, and try them over again. How blank and meaningless
they seem! What glamour of infatuation was it which made that nonsense
beautiful? One wonders that such puling and trash could ever have made
one happy. And yet there were dates when you kissed those silly letters
with rapture--lived upon six absurd lines for a week, and until the
reactionary period came, when you were restless and miserable until you
got a fresh supply of folly.

That is why we decline to publish any of the letters and verses which
Mr. Pen wrote at this period of his life, out of mere regard for the
young fellow's character. They are too spooney and wild. Young ladies
ought not to be called upon to read them in cold blood. Bide your time,
young women; perhaps you will get and write them on your own account
soon. Meanwhile we will respect Mr. Pen's first outpourings, and keep
them tied up in the newspapers with Miss Fotheringay's string, and
sealed with Captain Costigan's great silver seal.

The Major came away from his interview with Captain Costigan in a state
of such concentrated fury as rendered him terrible to approac