Even old Ovid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placed some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which deserved the immortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself.

But let not all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, "incerti spatium dum finiat aevi," our books are to be immortal.

Alas! the way to immortality is not so easy, nor will our "Sea Captain" be permitted such an unconscionable cruise.

If all the immortalities were really to have their wish, what a work would our descendants have to study them all! Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved this deathless consummation.

There will come a day (may it be long distant!) when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and it is reasonable to suppose that his dramas will pass out of existence, some time or other, in the lapse of the secula seculorum.