Damn it, ride on!)--the stars
of the clematis modestly twinkle, and the trailing--(What the h---- is
it that trails? Honeysuckle? Good. Weigh in!)--trailing honeysuckle
flings down that rich scent that falls like sweet music on the
nerves.'"
And so on. He managed in this way to turn out the regulation column of
flummery, but I knew it could not last. And now he had come to be a sot
and an outcast. Worse has befallen him. He screwed up his nerve to write
an article in the old style, and I helped him by acting as amanuensis.
He violently attacked an editor who had persistently befriended him;
then he wrote a London Letter for that editor's paper; then he sent the
violent attack away in the envelope intended for the letter. There was a
terrible quarrel.
So far did the Gentleman, the Doctor, and Dicky come down. I may say
that Dicky, the companion of statesmen, the pride of his university,
died of cold and hunger in a cellar in the Borough. Oh, young man, boast
not of thy strength!
POACHERS AND NIGHTBIRDS.
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