Confess now,
you haythen, you," cried the lawyer, making a lunge at his companion
with his stick, which the latter warded off with his book.
"There are some pretty poor ones," the schoolmaster granted grudgingly,
"but the work of a great poet should not be judged by fragments."
"Wilks, apply the rule; I have only given you one stanza of the
unfinished epic, which unborn generations will peruse with admiration
and awe, 'The Grinstun Quarry Restored':--
I have striven hard for my high reward
Through many a changing year
Now, the goal I reach; it is mine to teach.
Stand still, O man, and hear!
I shall wreathe my name, with the brightness of fame,
To shine upon history's pages;
It shall be a gem in the diadem
Of the past to future ages!
Oh, Wilks for immortality!" cried the light-hearted lawyer, rising with
a laugh.
Looking back towards the ascent, he perceived two bowed figures
struggling up the hill under largish, and, apparently, not very light
burdens.
"Wilks, my dear, we're young and vigorous, and down there are two poor
old grannies laden like pack mules in this broiling sun.
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