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"Scoff at Founders of Systems. And cry with a glow of fine enthusiasm, 'Here are errors and misleading statements in abundance in our contemporary's work, and to what end? To depreciate a fine work, to deceive the public, and to arrive at this conclusion "A book that sells, does not sell." Proh pudor! Moral 'There is but one kind of literature, the literature which aims to please.

He says it is all "iconoclastic foolishness," declares that a nation does nothing of the kind, and proceeds to animadvert in an unchristian spirit on the density of my economic ignorance. My contemporary's criticism is clearly unconstitutional in that it is cruel and unusual punishment.

The last time I saw him in his drawing-room he made me sit on a little stool by his sofa it was not long after my father, his life-long friend and contemporary's death and he kept stroking my hair, and saying to me, "You look so like a child a good child." I saw him but once more after this; he was then confined to his bed.

It has been said that to read a contemporary's account of "Raleigh's adventures with the Irish chieftains, his challenges and single combats, his escapes at fords and woods, is like reading bits of the Faerie Queene in prose." In 1598 the Irish, infuriated by the invasion of their country and the seizure of their lands, set fire to Spenser's castle.

On being handed over to the police, the unfortunate man made a desperate resistance, and has ever since been so violent that it has been necessary to keep him in a strait-jacket. Most of our esteemed contemporary's other writers are still at large." In 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, lay an immense and almost unbroken forest.

Though he emptied his contemporary's pockets of many thousands, he enriched the Dictionary of Quotations with one line, which will be repeated so long as there is human hand to wield a pen. And, if the High Constable of Paramatta was tediously respectable, George Barrington, the Prig, was a man of genius.

But his adversity is his human contemporary's gain, and the biologist will hardly be blamed, even by the most tender-hearted anti-vivisectionist, for availing himself freely of material which otherwise would probably serve no better purpose than to appease the appetite of some rapacious fish.

"Scoff at Founders of Systems. And cry with a glow of fine enthusiasm, 'Here are errors and misleading statements in abundance in our contemporary's work, and to what end? To depreciate a fine work, to deceive the public, and to arrive at this conclusion "A book that sells, does not sell." Proh pudor! Moral 'There is but one kind of literature, the literature which aims to please.