methodical of men.

My father's face was more benign than usual, for before him lay a
proof,--the first proof of his first work--his one work--the Great Book!
Yes! it had positively found a press. And the first proof of your first
work--ask any author what that is! My mother was out, with the faithful
Mrs. Primmins, shopping or marketing, no doubt; so, while the brothers
were thus engaged, it was natural that my entrance should not make as
much noise as if it had been a bomb, or a singer, or a clap of thunder,
or the last "great novel of the season," or anything else that made a
noise in those days. For what makes a noise now,--now, when the most
astonishing thing of all is our easy familiarity with things astounding;
when we say, listlessly, "Another revolution at Paris," or, "By the by,
there is the deuce to do at Vienna!" when De Joinville is catching fish
in the ponds at Claremont, and you hardly turn back to look at
Metternich on the pier at Brighton!

My uncle nodded and growled indistinctly; my father put aside his
books,--"you have told us that already."

Sir, you are very much mistaken; it was not then that he put aside his
books, for he was not then engaged in them,--he was reading his proof.
And he smiled, and pointed to it (the proof I mean) pathetically, and
with a kind of humor, as much as to say: "What can you expect,
Pisistratus? My new baby in short clothes--or long primer, which is all
the same thing!"

I took a chair between the two, and looked first at one, then at the
other. Heaven forgive me!--I felt a rebellious, ungrateful spite
against both. The bitterness of my soul must have been deep indeed to