But the ladies prevailed, and, by a process that is rather peculiar to what may be called a "credulous" state of society, they carried the day. This process was simply to make one fiction authority for another. The fact that smoking was now carried so far in England, that the clergy actually used cigars in the pulpits, was affirmed on the authority of Mr. Truck himself, and, coupled with his present occupation, the point was deemed to be settled. Even Florio yielded, and his plastic mind soon saw a thousand beauties in the usage, that had hitherto escaped it. All the literati drew round the captain in a circle, to enjoy the spectacle, though the honest old mariner contrived to throw out such volumes of vapour as to keep them at a safe distance. His four demure-looking neighbours got behind the barrier of smoke, where they deemed themselves entrenched against the assaults of sentimental petticoats, for a time, at least. "Pray, Mr. Truck," inquired S.R.P., "is it commonly thought in the English literary circles, that Byron was a developement of Shakspeare, or Shakspeare a shadowing forth of Byron?" "Both, marm," said the captain, with a coolness that would have done credit to Aristabulus, for he had been fairly badgered into impudence, profiting by the occasion to knock the ashes off his cigar; "all incline to the first opinion, and most to the last." "What finesse!" murmured one. "How delicate!" whispered a second. "A dignified reserve!" ejaculated a third. "So English!" exclaimed Florio. "Do you think, Mr. Truck," asked D.O.V.E. "that the profane songs of Little have more pathos than the sacred songs of Moore; or that the sacred songs of Moore have more sentiment than the profane songs of Little?" "A good deal of both, marm, and something to spare. I think there is little in one, and more in the other." "Pray, sir," said J.R.P., "do you pronounce the name of Byron's lady- love, Guy-kee-oh-_ly_, or, Gwy-ky-o-_lee_?" "That depends on how the wind is. If on shore, I am apt to say 'oh- lee;' and if off shore, 'oh-lie.'" "That's capital!" cried Florio, in an extasy of admiration. "What man in this country could have said as crack a thing as that?" "Indeed it is very witty," added Miss Monthly--"what does it mean?" "Mean! More than is seen or felt by common minds. Ah! the English are truly a great nation!--How delightfully he smokes!" "I think he is much the most interesting man we have had out here," observed Miss Annual, "since the last bust of Scott!" "Ask him, dear D.O.V.E.," whispered Julietta, who was timid, from the circumstance of never having published, "which he thinks the most ecstatic feeling, hope or despair?" The question was put by the more experienced lady, according to request, though she first said, in a hurried tone, to her youthful sister--"you can have felt but little, child, or you would know that it is despair, as a matter of course."