"No, no," said my friend, "I am not so bad as that neither. I have read
them bit by bit, just as I could get a moment's time, and I believe, I
shall very soon get through them."

"Well, my good friend?" said I, interrogatively.

And "_Well_, Mr. Croftangry," cried he, "I really think you have got
over the ground very tolerably well. I have noted down here two or three
bits of things, which I presume to be errors of the press, otherwise it
might be alleged, perhaps, that you did not fully pay that attention to
the grammatical rules, which one would desire to see rigidly observed."

I looked at my friend's notes, which, in fact, showed, that in one or two
grossly obvious passages, I had left uncorrected such solecisms in grammar.

"Well, well, I own my fault; but, setting apart these casual errors, how
do you like the matter and the manner of what I have been writing, Mr.
Fairscribe?"

"Why," said my friend, pausing, with more grave and important hesitation
than I thanked him for, "there is not much to be said against the
manner. The style is terse and intelligible, Mr. Croftangry, very
intelligible; and that I consider as the first point in every thing that
is intended to be understood. There are, indeed, here and there some
flights and fancies, which I comprehended with difficulty; but I got to
your meaning at last. There are people that are like ponies; their
judgments cannot go fast, but they go sure."

"That is a pretty clear proposition, my friend; but then how did you