world in all the things he gave his mind to.

Here Ellesmere entered.

Ellesmere. I heard you were come, Dunsford: I hope we shall have
an essay to-day. My critical faculties have been dormant for some
days, and want to be roused a little. Milverton was talking to you
about Count Rumford when I came in, was he not? Ah, the Count is a
great favourite with Milverton when he is down here; but there is a
book upstairs which is Milverton's real favourite just now, a
portentous-looking book; some relation to a blue-book, something
about sewerage, or health of towns, or public improvements, over
which said book our friend here goes into enthusiasms. I am sure if
it could be reduced to the size of that tatterdemalion Horace that
he carries about, the poor little Horace would be quite supplanted.

Milverton. Now, I must tell you, Dunsford, that Ellesmere himself
took up this book he talks about, and it was a long time before he
put it down.

Ellesmere. Yes, there is something in real life, even though it is
in the unheroic part of it, that interests one. I mean to get
through the book.

Dunsford. What are we to have to-day for our essay?

Milverton. Let us adjourn to the garden, and I will read you an
essay on Greatness, if I can find it.

We went to our favourite place, and Milverton read us the following