He has, in his imitation of Lord Byron, reversed the great miracle; instead of turning water into wine, he has turned wine into water.

Besides, he is so unpardonably obscure.

He thinks, with Bacchus--( you remember, D'A--, the line in Euripides, which I will not quote), that 'there is something august in the shades;' but he has applied this thought wrongly--in his obscurity there is nothing sublime--it is the back ground of a Dutch picture.

It is only a red herring, or an old hat, which he has invested with such pomposity of shadow and darkness." "But his verses are so smooth," said Lady--.
"Ah!" answered Vincent.
"'Quand la rime enfin se trouve au bout des vers, Qu'importe que le reste y soit mis des travers.'" "Helas" said the Viscount D'A--t, an author of no small celebrity himself; "I agree with you--we shall never again see a Voltaire or a Rousseau." "There is but little justice in those complaints, often as they are made," replied Vincent.

"You may not, it is true, see a Voltaire or a Rousseau, but you will see their equals.