The writer of stories must please, or he will be nothing. And he must teach whether he wish to teach or no. How shall he teach lessons of virtue and at the same time make himself a delight to his readers? That sermons are not in themselves often thought to be agreeable we all know. Nor are disquisitions on moral philosophy supposed to be pleasant reading for our idle hours. But the novelist, if he have a conscience, must preach his sermons with the same purpose as the clergyman, and must have his own system of ethics. If he can do this efficiently, if he can make virtue alluring and vice ugly, while he charms his readers instead of wearying them, then I think Mr. Carlyle need not call him distressed, nor talk of that long ear of fiction, nor question whether he be or not the most foolish of existing mortals. That isn't Roland, is it? Ah, you don't know what a companion Allegra is鈥攂rimming over with fun! She knows her Dickens by heart; and I never met with anybody who appreciated him as intensely as she does. 福彩3d中奖技巧 That isn't Roland, is it? No, I am not, said Mr. Kenyon grimly. "I will make him repent bitterly his rebellious course. Come here, sir鈥攐r no," and a smile lighted up his face, "it is more befitting that your punishment should come from the one whom you have insulted. Roland, take the cane and give Oliver a dozen strokes with it." Mrs. Crowther was sorry to lose Isola as a friend and prot茅g茅e. Her daughters were furious at the slight implied in this gradual dropping away. They passed Mrs. Disney and her sister-in-law with their noses in the air, as they went from the church-porch to their carriage. They cut them ostentatiously if they met on the quiet country roads. Mrs. Crowther would still stop to speak and shake hands, albeit she urged no further invitations. Know what you want. I have heard the question argued 鈥?On what terms should a man of inferior rank live with those who are manifestly superior to him? If a marquis or an earl honour me, who have no rank, with his intimacy, am I in my intercourse with him to remember our close acquaintance or his high rank? I have always said that where the difference in position is quite marked, the overtures to intimacy should always come from the higher rank; but if the intimacy be ever fixed, then that rank should be held of no account. It seems to me that intimate friendship admits of no standing but that of equality. I cannot be the Sovereign鈥檚 friend, nor probably the friend of many very much beneath the Sovereign, because such equality is impossible. And am I to have no tea, Miss Leland? asked a voice out of the darkness. How? 鈥楪o on; quick, father.鈥? He visited the office of a lawyer and dictated his will. It was very brief, scarcely ten lines in length. This also he deposited with the safe deposit company. That isn't Roland, is it? Mr. Colfox sometimes dropped in of an evening, on parish business of course, took a cup of coffee, listened while Allegra played one of Mozart's sonatas or sang a song by Gluck or Haydn or Handel. Mr. Colfox was not one of the advanced people who despise Mozart or Handel. Nor did he look down upon Haydn. Indeed, he sat and stroked his thin legs with a sheepish appreciation, wrinkling up his loose trousers, and showing a large amount of stocking, while Allegra sang "My mother bids me bind my hair," in her clear, strong mezzo-soprano, which was of infinite use to him in his choir.