preciation of that author is expressed in a letter which
he addressed to Armstrong, and it needs not much reading between the
lines to gather what was the literary diet best suited to his taste.
It is amusing, too, to notice the little shadows cast here and there
by coming events.

(Billy Barlow was, I really don't know why, for the time being,
synonymous with George du Maurier.)

"Gulielmus Barlow, Thomasino Armstrong,
Whom we hope is 'gaillardement' getting along
And salubrious, ave!

You'll wonder, I ween,
At Barlow's turning topsy-tur--poet I mean.
I take odds you'll exclaim, 'twixt a grunt and a stare,
'Gottferdummi' the beggar's gone mad, I declare,
And his wits must have followed his 'peeper'--not so;
He will give you the wherefore, will William Barlow--
Viz: he's so seedy and blue, he's so deucedly triste,
He's so d----d out of sorts, he's so d----d out of tune,
That for mere consolation he cannot resist
The temptation of holding with Tommy commune.
Then that _he_ should be bothered alone, isn't fair,
So he'll just bother _you_ a bit, pour se distraire,
This will partly account for the milk--then the fact is
That some heavy swell says that it's deuced good practice,
And then it's a natural consequence, too,
Of the classical culture he's just been put through.
I'll explain: T'other day the maternal did say,
'You are sadly deficient in reading, Bill; nay
Do not wrinkle your forehead and turn up your nose
(That elegant feature of William Barlow's!)
You've read Thackeray, Dickens, I know; but it's fit
You should study the _classical_ authors a bit.
Heaven knows when your sight will be valid again,
You may throw down the pencil and take up the pen,
And you cannot have too many strings to your bow.'
--'A-a-amen!' says young William to Mrs. Barlow.

So we're treated (our feelings we needn't define)
To a beastly slow book called the 'Fall and Decline'
By a fellow called Gibbon, be d----d to him; then
Comes the 'Esprit des lois et des moeurs,' from the pen
Of a chap hight _Voltaire_--un pedant--qui je crois
Ne se fichait pas mal et des moeurs et des lois.
After which just to vary the pleasures, _Rousseau_
By Emile--no: Emile by _Rousseau_? Gad! I know
That which ever it be it's infernally slow,
And I'm glad Billy's neither Emile nor Rousseau--
Such my fate is to listen to, longing to slope--
Then come horrid