“Exceedingly so, Reginald,” replied Sir Waldron; “and if I have a virtue in the world--I beg pardon--among my numerous virtues, that of standing forth, manfully, for the customs of old England, and defending its literature against any man who presumes to set up the cold, classical, marbly stuff of the Greeks or Romans, in preference, is, certainly, I am proud to say, most paramount.” “_Pindarum quisquis studet emulari_, brother Waldron,” exclaimed Reginald; but he was cut short, in his intended quotation, by Archibald, who said, “And if I plume myself on any merit of mine,--except, from my boyhood, always having balanced to a fraction,--it is on that of preferring a good carpet to a sanded floor; a Hoby's boot to a hob-shoe; a tooth by Ruspini, to fill up a gap made by time, to no tooth at all; a calf by Sheldrake, to make my left match with my right, to an odd pair of legs; a good dinner of fish, flesh, and fowl, at Guff's, or the Albion, or in my own dining-room, to muggot, parsley, or squab pies, in Devonshire; a glass of claret to poor pinch-throat cider; punch to such filthy messes as buttered ale (hot ale with sugar, butter and rum!) or _meaty-drinky_ (ale made thick with flour!); and the company of two or three intelligent men over a bottle or a bowl, to all the famous authors, from Homer downwards, Greek, Roman, and English; not one of whose works I ever found half so useful as the Tables of Interest, Patterson's Roads, or the London Directory.” This speech by no means raised Archibald in the estimation of either of his brothers. Sir Waldron thrust his hands deep into his pockets, and began whistling “Lillibullero.” Reginald sighed, and said to the man of business, in rather a doleful tone, “But, surely, brother, you have not forgotten your Horace; we were class-fellows together; you cannot be blind to the beauties of those illustrious names--” “Chaucer, Sidney, Spencer,”--said Sir Waldron. “Euripides, Sophocles,”--quoth Reginald. “Ford, Decker, Marlow,” thus the baronet proceeded; “Fletcher, Jonson,--” “Ha, ha!” exclaimed Archibald; “a list of very good people in their day, no doubt;--indeed, they were clever, for I know it;--but there's not one of the names you have mentioned would make a bill five farthings the better in Lombard Street.” “But don't you ever read, brother Archibald?” asked the reverend gentleman, very earnestly. “Ay,” said Sir Waldron; “don't you sometimes take down a book to amuse yourself?” “Oh! yes; very often,” was the reply. “Greek or Roman?”-- “Shakespeare, Donne, Randolph,--or what book, brother Archy?”