The tortoise passes the hare. I owe an apology to Lord Campbell
for even naming him on the same page on which stands the name of
dunce: for assuredly in shrewd, massive sense, as well as in kindness
of manner, the natural outflow of a kind and good heart, no judge
ever surpassed him. But I may fairly point to his career of unexampled
success as an instance which proves my principle. See how that
man of parts which are sound and solid, rather than brilliant or
showy, has won the Derby and the St. Ledger of the law: has filled
with high credit the places of Chief Justice of England and Lord
Chancellor. And contrast his eminently successful and useful course
with that of the fitful meteor, Lord Brougham. What a great, dazzling
genius Brougham unquestionably is; yet his greatest admirer must
admit that his life has been a brilliant failure. But while you,
thoughtful reader, in such a retrospect as I have been supposing,
sometimes wonder at the decent and reasonable success of the dunce,
do you not often lament over the fashion in which those who promised
well, and even brilliantly, have disappointed the hopes entertained
of them? What miserable failures such have not unfrequently made!
And not always through bad conduct either: not always, though
sometimes, by taking to vicious courses; but rather by a certain want
of tact and sense, or even by just somehow missing the favourable
tide. You have got a fair living and a fair standing in the Church;
you have held them for eight or ten years; when some evening as you
are sitting in your study or playing with your children, a servant
tells you, doubtfully, that a man is waiting to see you. A poor,
thin, shabbily-dressed fellow comes in, and in faltering tones begs
for the lean of five shillings. Ah, with what a start you recognise
him! It is the clever fellow whom you hardly beat at college, who
was always so lively and merry, who sang so nicely, and was so
much asked out into society. You had lost sight of him for several