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 wise, I am no fonder of books than I dare say you yourself are, Mr. Larynx.

Why, sir, I cannot say that I am indeed particularly fond of books; yet neither can I say that I never do read. A tale or a poem, now and then, to a circle of ladies over their work, is no very heterodox employment of the vocal energy. And I must say, for myself, that few men have a more Job-like endurance of the eternally-recurring questions and answers about pins, needles, threads, patterns, hems, and stitches, that interweave themselves, on these occasions, with the crisis of an adventure, and heighten the distress of a tragedy.

And very often make the distress when the author has omitted it.