I see that one "Walter Besant" has some capital notions concerning the
subject which I have ventured to touch on. If he were a rough--as I am
during much of my time--he would be able to talk more to the purpose.
Still, I deliberately say that that novelist, who is often treated as a
moony creature, is a very wise and practical statesman, and he has used
his opportunities well. If powerful people do not very soon pay heed to
his message, they will have reason for regret.
The worst of it is that one is constantly being forced to wonder whether
culture is of any use. For instance, on the day after the coursing, I
fell in with a smart lad who loafs about race meetings, and who
sometimes visits the landlord's parlour at the Chequers. He has been a
year out of Oxford, and he is rather a pretty hand at classics; yet he
tries to look and talk like a jockey, and his mother has to keep him
because he won't do any work. A shrewd little thing he is, and this is
how we talked:--
"Shall I drive you over to the meeting to-morrow?"
"If you like.
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