Brother, there is considerable difference between us." "I would rather be the lil-writer, after all," said the tall, handsome, black man; "indeed, I would wish for nothing better." "Why so ?" said Mr.Petulengro.
"Because they have so much to say for themselves," said the black man, "even when dead and gone.

When they are laid in the churchyard, it is their own fault if people a'n't talking of them.

Who will know, after I am dead, or bitchadey pawdel, that I was once the beauty of the world, or that you, Jasper, were--" "The best man in England of my inches.

That's true, Tawno--however, here's our brother will perhaps let the world know something about us." "Not he," said the other, with a sigh; "he'll have quite enough to do in writing his own lils, and telling the world how handsome and clever he was; and who can blame him?
Not I.

If I could write lils, every word should be about myself and my own tacho Rommanis--my own lawful wedded wife, which is the same thing.