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Updated: May 21, 2025
George said the other day 'that you were very conceited. 'No, not conceited, replied Dr. , 'only ignorant; so if I were you, Trollolop, I would cut metaphysics; you're not offended?" "By no means," cried Trollolop, foaming at the mouth.
Lord Aspeden being recalled, Clarence accompanied him to England; and the ex-minister, really liking much one who was so useful to him, had faithfully promised to procure him the office and honour of secretary whenever his lordship should be reappointed minister. Three intimate acquaintances had Clarence Linden. The one was the Honourable Henry Trollolop, the second Mr.
"Ah!" interrupted Callythorpe, with a solemn look, "everybody knows that you are not one of those horrid persons, those atrocious deists and atheists and sceptics, from whom the Church and freedom of old England have suffered such danger. I am a true Briton of the good old school; and I confess, Mr. Trollolop, that I do not like to hear any opinions but the right ones."
A propos of Trollolop; let me not forget that you honour him with your inquiries. I saw him three days since, and he asked me if I had been impressed lately with the idea vulgarly called Clarence Linden; and he then proceeded to inform me that he had heard the atoms which composed your frame were about to be resolved into a new form.
"My dear sir," interrupted Callythorpe, very affectionately, "you remind me of what people say of you." "Memory may be reduced to sensation, since it is only a weaker sensation," quoth Trollolop; "but proceed."
"Don't mind me, Trollolop," cried the baronet, "I can't bear your clever heads: give me a good heart; that's worth all the heads in the world; d n me if it is not! Eh, Linden?" "I be hanged if I'm all mind," said the baronet. "At least," quoth Linden, gravely, "no one ever accused you of it before." "We are all mind," pursued the reasoner; "we are all mind, un moulin a raisonnement.
I can't help telling you of your faults; for I am a true Briton, sir, a true Briton, and leave lying to slaves and Frenchmen." "You are in an error," said Trollolop; "Frenchmen don't lie, at least not naturally, for in the human mind, as I before said, the Divine Author has implanted a principle of veracity which "
Trollolop. Sir Christopher entered with a swagger and a laugh. "Well, old fellow, how do you do? Deuced cold this evening." "Though it is an evening in May," observed Clarence; "but then, this cursed climate." "Climate!" interrupted Mr. Callythorpe, "it is the best climate in the world: I am an Englishman, and I never abuse my country." "'England, with all thy faults, I love thee still!"
One evening, when Clarence was alone in his rooms, Mr. Trollolop entered. "My dear Linden," said the visitor, "how are you?" "I am, as I hope you are, very well," answered Clarence. "The human mind," said Trollolop, taking off his greatcoat, "Sir Christopher Findlater and Mr. Callythorpe, sir," said the valet. "Pshaw! What has Sir Christopher Findlater to do with the human mind?" muttered Mr.
Trollolop we delight in pronouncing that soft liquid name was eminently distinguished by a love of metaphysics, metaphysics were in a great measure the order of the day; but Fate had endowed Mr. Trollolop with a singular and felicitous confusion of idea. Reid, Berkeley, Cudworth, Hobbes, all lay jumbled together in most edifying chaos at the bottom of Mr.
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