"It strikes me," said Skinner, "that that line is very much corrupted in its quotation. It does not seem to be such Latin as is found in the classics, even from what I know of them." "And with all my study of Horace," observed Judson, "I never met with the line in him, even if it was given correctly. And then I think, with Skinner, that it is not correctly quoted. What do you think, Arthur?" "Of course it is not in Horace," replied Arthur; "nor is it correctly quoted. If Sidney has no objection, I will give the correct words from the right author." Sidney was sullenly silent. "In Virgil's 'Aeneid,' Book iv., line 412," said Arthur, "the words of which Sidney intends his to be a quotation may be found. They are as follows:-- 'Improbe amor, quid non mortalia pectora cogis.'" "You are quite right, Arthur," said Bonner. Here the subject ended. A short time after, during the evening, Sidney was observed holding conversation with Miss Boast, a young lady of some pretensions, but of no more than ordinary education. Sidney seemed to be much at home with her in conversation. She gave a willing ear to all his pedantic talk; and he used the opportunity much to his own gratification. He was repeating to Miss Boast a list of his studies in the classics, mathematics, history, geology, astronomy, etc., when Arthur walked into that part of the room where they were sitting. He saw that Sidney was recovered from his temper shown in the former conversation, and had subsided into his own natural element, and was pouring into the credulous ear of the young lady his pedantic effusions. "Are you at all acquainted with Milton's 'Paradise Lost'?" inquired Sidney of Miss Boast. "I have read a little of it, but it is not my favourite book," she replied. "But it is an admirable book," said Sidney; "I have read it again and again. Why, I know it almost line by line. It is a grand poem, of course of the tragic style, full of strong sentiment and bold figure. Milton, you know, wrote that poem in German. The translation into English is a good one--incomparably good. I forget who the translator was. Do you not remember those exquisitely fine lines which run thus,-- 'Ah, mighty Love----' Why, now, it is strange I should forget them. Let me see (with his hand to his forehead). Now I have them, 'Ah, mighty Love, that it were inward heat Which made this precious limbeck sweet! But what, alas! ah, what does it avail!' I need not repeat any more. This will give you an idea of the style and sentiment of that wonderful poem." "It is certainly very fine," said the young lady, innocently. "Did you not hear those beautiful lines, Arthur, which Sidney has just quoted from Milton?" asked Miss Boast. "Yes, I heard them." "Are they not fine?" said Sidney to Arthur. He evaded an answer. "Are you sure that the quotation is from Milton?" inquired Mr. Smith, who was listening to the conversation. "Certainly," said Sidney.