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Updated: June 3, 2025
I am told that the movement in favour of him began in America; if so, more praise to American readers, who had to teach us to appreciate De Quincey and Praed before we knew the value of those men. Yet is there much to do.
You've doubtless read all about this Praed Street mystery in the newspapers? Well, now, some very extraordinary developments have arisen out of the beginnings of that, it turns out." Melky sat by, disturbed and uncomfortable, while Ayscough reeled off a complete narrative of the recent discoveries to the suave-mannered, phlegmatic, calmly-listening figure on the hearthrug.
That Hood obliged to write for bread, and outliving Praed by something like a decade at the two ends wrote a great deal more than Praed did is of little consequence, for the more leisurely writer is as unequal as the duty labourer.
So he promised to return, and then hurried back to his hotel to find Melky Rubinstein pacing up and down outside the entrance. Purdie tapped Melky's shoulder and motioned him to walk along Praed Street. "Look here!" he said. "I want you to take me to see your cousin and the pawnshop. We must have a talk you said your cousin's a good business woman. She's the sort we can discuss business with, eh?"
With a pang of disappointment he retraced his steps from Praed Street to the Park, and once there tried no further to waylay her. He paid a round of calls in the afternoon, mostly on her relations; and, seeking out Aunt Charlotte, he dolorously related his encounter in the Row.
"There's a strange affair occurred during the night, Mr. Purdie," said Ayscough, when they were alone. "And it's my opinion it's connected with this Multenius affair." "What is it?" asked Purdie. "This," replied Ayscough. "A Praed Street tradesman in a small way was picked up, dying, in a quiet street off Maida Vale, at twelve o'clock last night, and he died soon afterwards.
Praed is not in any sense a propagandist on the subject of marriage. She illustrates, often impressively, its difficulties and anomalies, but leaves the rest to the judgment of the reader. The romantic, ignorant girl who marries on trust, or is ready to do so, has numerous representatives in these novels.
Sydney Smith, died 1845; W. Mackworth Praed, 1839; Tom Hood, died 1845; I. K. Brunel, died 1859; Charles Kemble, died, 1854; Leigh Hunt, died 1859; W. M. Thackeray, died 1863; J. Leech, died 1863; Sir Charles Eastlake, P.R.A., died 1865; Charles Babbage, P.R.S., died 1871; Anthony Trollope, died 1882; besides many others distinguished in literature, art, or science.
And their occasional efforts, their experiments in the half-kinds they affected, have a curious charm. English poetry would be undeniably poorer without the unearthly snatches of Beddoes, the exquisitely urbane verse-of-society of Praed, the pathetic-grotesque of Hood, even the stately tirades of Horne and Taylor.
He made, I must say, an excellent speech; too florid and queer, but decidedly successful. Why did not Price speak? If he was afraid, it was not without reason; for a more terrible audience there is not in the world. I wish that Praed had known to whom he was speaking. But, with all his talent, he has no tact, and he has fared accordingly.
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