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Also, I cannot help remembering, that, on the whole, I have been more intensely bored with works of fiction, beginning with "Gil Blas," and ending with on the whole, I won't even mention it, than I ever was by the Latin Grammar or Rollin's History. Naturally, therefore, I should not wish to threaten my friends with the punishment I have endured from others.
When I did go I was surprised at not seeing Misti. I asked where he was. She blushed and replied: "I gave him away. I was uneasy." I was astonished. "Uneasy? Uneasy? What about?" She gave me a long kiss and said in a low tone: "I was uneasy about your eyes, my dear." Misti appeared in. Gil Blas of January 22, 1884, over the signature of "MAUFRIGNEUSE." Crazy people attract me.
Pickwick and his club, its method that of the episodic adventure story of "Gil Blas" lineage, its purpose frankly to amuse at all costs, a new creative power in English literature gave the world over three hundred characters in some sixty odd scenes: intensely English, intensely human, and still, after the lapse of three quarters of a century, keenly enjoyable.
He read it "with great delight," and its publisher may "depend upon it that the book will sell, which, after all, is the rub." He liked the sincerity, the style, the effect of incident piling on incident. It reminded him of Gil Blas with a touch of Bunyan. Borrow is "such a TRUMP . . . as full of meat as an egg, and a fresh-laid one."
I need not say to you that the words are Spanish, nor that they are to be found in the short Introduction to "Gil Blas," nor that they mean, "Here lies buried the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias." I warned all young people off the premises when I began my notes referring to old age. I must be equally fair with old people now.
The novel of character has this difference from all others: that it requires no coherency of plot, and for this reason, as in the case of GIL BLAS, it is sometimes called the novel of adventure.
The illustrious Delobelle, disgusted to see that no one called upon him for anything, decided to call upon himself for something, and began in a voice as resonant as a gong the monologue from Ruy Blas: "Good appetite, Messieurs!" while the guests thronged to the buffet, spread with chocolate and glasses of punch.
"It is a thousand pities" said Vincent, "that the scene of that novel is so far removed from us. Could the humour, the persons, the knowledge of character, and of the world, come home to us, in a national, not an exotic garb, it would be a more popular, as it is certainly a more gifted work, than even the exquisite novel of Gil Blas. But it is a great misfortune for Hope that
He arrived in the city of Mexico in February, 1773. With resistless energy and eloquence he pleaded for the preservation of the shipyard of San Blas, the removal of Fages, the correction of certain abuses that had arisen as the result of Fages's actions, and for further funds, soldiers, etc., to prosecute the work of founding more Missions. In all the main points his mission was successful.
He had no sooner expressed himself to this effect, than our hero, who almost incessantly laying traps for diversion at his neighbour's expense, laid hold on the declaration; and, recollecting the story of Scipio and the muleteer in Gil Blas, resolved to perpetrate a joke upon the stomach of Pallet, which seemed well disposed to a hearty supper.
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