This, to me, seemed to be rank apostasy,--infidelity to the cause which he was bound to trust as long as he kept his place in that society. How shall you do anything in the world, achieve any success, unless you yourself believe in yourself? And if there be a partnership either in mind or matter, your partner must be the same to you as yourself. Confidence is so essential to the establishment of a magazine! I felt then, at least, that the “Panjandrum” could have no chance without it, and I rebuked Mr. Churchill Smith. “We know what you mean by that,” said I;--“because we don’t talk German metaphysics, you think we aint worth our salt.” “So much worth it,” said he, “that I trust heartily you may find enough to save you even yet.” I was about to boil over with wrath; but Walter Watt was on his legs, making a speech about the salt of the earth, before I had my words ready. Churchill Smith would put up with Walter when he would endure words from no one else. I used to think him mean enough to respect the Oxford fellowship, but I have since fancied that he believed that he had discovered a congenial spirit. In those days I certainly did despise Watt’s fellowship, but in later life I have come to believe that men who get rewards have generally earned them. Watt on this occasion made a speech to which in my passion I hardly attended; but I well remember how, when I was about to rise in my wrath, Mrs. St. Quinten put her hand on my arm, and calmed me. “If you,” said she, “to whom we most trust for orderly guidance, are to be the first to throw down the torch of discord, what will become of us?” “I haven’t thrown down any torch,” said I. “Neither take one up,” said she, pouring out my tea for me as she spoke. “As for myself,” said Regan, “I like metaphysics,--and I like them German. Is there anything so stupid and pig-headed as that insular feeling which makes us think nothing to be good that is not home-grown?” “All the same,” said Jack, “who ever eat a good muffin out of London?” “Mr. Hallam, Mary Jane is bringing up some more,” said our hostess. She was an open-handed woman, and the supply of these delicacies never ran low as long as the “Panjandrum” was a possibility.