Four days afterwards, on his return from the book-sale, to my father's
inexpressible bewilderment, he was informed that Pisistratus was
growing the very image of him."

When at length the good man was made thoroughly aware of the fact that
his son and heir boasted a name so memorable in history as that borne by
the enslaver of Athens and the disputed arranger of Homer,--and it was
asserted to be a name that he himself had suggested,--he was as angry as
so mild a man could be. "But it is infamous!" he exclaimed.
"Pisistratus christened! Pisistratus, who lived six hundred years
before Christ was born! Good heavens, madam! you have made me the
father of an Anachronism."

My mother burst into tears. But the evil was irremediable. An
anachronism I was, and an anachronism I must continue to the end of the
chapter.




CHAPTER IV.


"Of course, sir, you will begin soon to educate your son yourself?" said
Mr. Squills.

"Of course, sir," said my father, "you have read Martinus Scriblerus?"

"I don't understand you, Mr. Caxton."