Blackwood´s Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66
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Excerpt from Blackwood´s Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66: July December, 1849 I saw little alteration on you, Mr Seward; but as to Buller, it was with the utmost difficulty I could be brought, by his reiterated asseverations, into a sort of quasi-belief in his personal identity; and even now, it is far from amounting to anything like a settled conviction. Why, his face is twice the breadth it used to be - and so red! It used to be narrow and pale. Then, what a bushy head - now, cocker it as he will, bald. In figure was he not slim? Now, stout´s the word. Stout - stout - yes, Buller, you have grown stout, and will grow stouter - your doom is to be fat - I prophesy paunch - Buller. Spare me - spare me, sir. Seward should not have interrupted me - ´twas but the first impression - and soon wore off - those Edinboro´ people have much to answer for - unmercifully wearing you out at their ceaseless soirees - but since you came to Cladich, sir, Christopher´s Himself again - pardon my familiarity - nor can I now, after the minutest inspection, and severest scrutiny, detect one single additional wrinkle on face or forehead - nay, not a wrinkle at all - not one - so fresh of colour, too, sir, that the irradiation is at times ruddy - and without losing an atom of expression, the countenance absolutely - plump. Yes, sir, plump´s the word - plump, plump, plump. North. Now you speak sensibly, and like yourself, my dear Buller. I wear well. Buller. Your enemies circulated a report - North. I did not think I had an enemy in the world. Buller. Your friends, sir, had heard a rumour - that you had mounted a wig. North. And was there, among them all, one so weak-minded as to believe it? But, to be sure, there are no bounds to the credulity of mankind. Buller. That you had lost your hair - and that, like Sampson - North. And by what Delilah had my locks been shorn? Seward. It all originated, I verily believe, sir, in the moved imagination of the Pensive Public: "Res est soliciti plena timoris Amor." North. Buller, I see little, if any - no change whatever - on you, since the days of Deeside - nor on you, Seward. Yes, I do. Not now, when by yourselves; but when your boys are in Tent, ah! then I do indeed - a pleasant, a happy, a blessed change! Bright boys they are - delightful lads - noble youths - and so are my Two - emphasis on my - Seward And Buller. Yes, all emphasis, and may the Four be friends for life. North. In presence of us old folks, composed and respectful - in manly modesty attentive to every word we say - at times no doubt wearisome enough! Yet each ready, at a look or pause, to join in when we are at our gravest - and the solemn may be getting dull - enlivening the sleepy flow of our conversation as with rivulets issuing from pure sources in the hills of the morning - Seward. Ay - ay; heaven bless them all! North. Why, there is more than sense - more than talent - there is genius among them - in their eyes and on their tongues - though they have no suspicion of it - and that is the charm. Then how they rally one another! Witty fellows all Four. And the right sort of raillery. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com
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