poet, conversing with one another, and to talk of one to the other
afterwards. How they hate each other! I (in my wicked way) have sent
Hicks almost raving mad, by praising Bunion to him in confidence; and
you can drive Bunion out of the room by a few judicious panegyrics of
Hicks.

Hicks first burst upon the astonished world with poems, in the Byronic
manner: "The Death-Shriek," "The Bastard of Lara," "The Atabal," "The
Fire-Ship of Botzaris," and other works. His "Love Lays," in Mr. Moore's
early style, were pronounced to be wonderfully precocious for a young
gentleman then only thirteen, and in a commercial academy, at Tooting.

Subsequently, this great bard became less passionate and more
thoughtful; and, at the age of twenty, wrote "Idiosyncracy" (in forty
books, 4to.): "Ararat," "a stupendous epic," as the reviews said;
and "The Megatheria," "a magnificent contribution to our pre-Adamite
literature," according to the same authorities. Not having read these
works, it would ill become me to judge them; but I know that poor
Jingle, the publisher, always attributed his insolvency to the latter
epic, which was magnificently printed in elephant folio.

Hicks has now taken a classical turn, and has brought out "Poseidon,"
"Iacchus," "Hephaestus," and I dare say is going through the mythology.
But I should not like to try him at a passage of the Greek Delectus,
any more than twenty thousand others of us who have had a "classical
education."

Hicks was taken in an inspired attitude regarding the chandelier, and
pretending he didn't know that Miss Pettifer was looking at him.