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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I must have an additional treasure to boast of in my house," resumed Mr Pitskiver, whose heart seemed more than ever set on cutting out Mr Whalley in priority of inspection of the unequaled statue. "You'll help me, I know I may depend on you, Mr Bristles." "You may indeed, sir a house such as yours needed only such an addition to make it perfect."
Whether, while he admired the trunks of the old elms, he calculated what would be their value in deals, this narrative disdains to mention; but it feels by no means bound to retain the same cautious reserve with regard to his sentiments while he gazed into the eyes of Emily Pitskiver.
But, as if feeling called on to show his increased superiority by greater condescension, he said, as he walked out of the room, "I shall certainly have him to dinner, and Bristles, and some more men of talent to meet him 'The feast of reason, and the flow of soul!" the only quotation, by the way, in which Mr Pitskiver was ever known to indulge.
He's evidently enclosed the sovereign in the note; for he never could have been fool enough to think that two gentlemen like us are to give tick for such a sum to a stranger." "What sum?" enquired Snipe. "Why, the sovereign he was to pay for delivering the letter. If you don't like to read it yourself, give it to the old snob Pitskiver will give you a tip."
Mr Pitskiver looked at the opposite side of the street while he spoke, as if to assure himself that he was in a still higher altitude above the poet now than some few years before.
Mr Pitskiver had recourse to his usual expedient, and said something about the feast of reason; Mr Whalley shook his head in a way that would have made his fortune in a grocer's window in the character of Howqua; and Mr Bristles prepared himself to reply while the four literary maidens turned their eyes on Aristarchus in expectation of hearing something fine.
Several humble pedestrians stepped off the pavement on to the dirty causeway to give him room. Daggles drew up, Snipe slunk back to hold the door, and Mr Pitskiver retired from the eyes of men, and entered his own hall, followed by his retainers. "If you please, sir," said Snipe, "I have a letter for Miss Sophiar." "Then don't you think you had better give it her?" replied Mr Pitskiver.
"He ain't so fat as our Mr Pitskiver," replied Snipe; "I thinks I never see no gentleman with so broad a back; except p'raps a prize ox." "You should get a set of harrows to clean his Chesterfield with, instead of a brush it's more like a field than a coat," said Daggles. "But look here here comes a ticket!"
But I say, Mr Bristles, I must railly make a point of seeing Stickleback's donkey first. Say you'll do it there's a good fellow." Mr Pitskiver also extended his hospitable invitation to the successful dramatist; and urged no less warmly his right to the first inspection of the masterpiece of the modern chisel.
If looks could have killed Mr Whalley, Mr Pitskiver's eyes would certainly have been tried for murder; but that matter-of-fact individual was impervious to the most impassioned glances. Miss Hendy sank her face in horror over her plate, and celestial rosy red overspread her countenance; while a look of the most extraordinary nature rewarded Mr Pitskiver for all his efforts in her behalf.
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