“‘Motives, by excess, reverse their very nature; and, instead of exciting, stun and stupify the mind. For it is one contradistinction of genius from talent, that its predominant end is always comprised in the means; and this is one of the many points of likeness between genius and virtue.’” “Then I’ve a genius,” cried Harry, laughing, “for I always write verses for the pleasure of writing, and not for money!” “Stop, my dear boy, hear him out—‘My dear young friend, I would say to every one who feels the genial power working within him, suppose yourself established in any honourable occupation. From the counting-house, the law-courts, or from visiting your last patient, you return at evening to your family, prepared for its social enjoyments; with the very countenances of your wife and children brightened by the knowledge that, as far as they are concerned, you have satisfied the demands of the day. Then, when you retire into your study—’” “I wish I had one!” sighed Harry. “‘You revisit in your books so many venerable friends with whom you can converse. But why should I say _retire_? The habits of active life will tend to give you such self-command that the presence of your family will be no interruption. Nay, the social silence, or undisturbing voices of a wife or sister, will be like a restorative atmosphere, or soft music, which moulds a dream without becoming its object.’” “What beautiful English he writes,” said Harry. * * * * * I was interrupted where I last left off by the entrance of the three young Pevenseys, with their governess, Mademoiselle Foularde, whom I had supposed still at the sea-side. But it appears that an epidemic had broken out at Hardsand, which occasioned their immediate return to the Stone House. I was very glad to see them all; they seemed to bring sunshine into my shady little room; and I had a toy railway-engine for the amusement of my little friends, which delighted the two young ones exceedingly. Arabella, or, as they frightfully abbreviate her name, Arbell, has grown quite tall and womanly, for a girl of fourteen. She has her mother’s good profile, but is dark, like her father, and the expression of her face is rather stern and repelling. Mademoiselle was charming; but I do not think she and her eldest pupil go on comfortably together. Whenever I addressed a remark to Arbell, Mademoiselle answered it, and went on speaking so as to detain my attention; this occurred three times, and I could observe Arbell look annoyed. As for Flora and Rosaline, they had a regular boxing-match, when they thought I was not looking. I caught Rosaline’s hand in mine, with the little fist doubled up, and said, “Why, Rosaline! you quite surprise me! I did not know you were a pugilist!”