—I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. In vain Wood protested his innocence. “It may be true, but it isn’t quite what I have in mind. She did not wince. But shurely I'd know that vice," he added, turning his lantern towards the janizary. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. ‘Still, the comtesse has them well in hand. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours.
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