M. G.,--perhaps my powers were not developed then."
"Pen thinks he writes better now than when he began," remarked Clive; "I
have heard him say so."
"His opinion of his own writings is high, whatever their date. Mine, sir,
are only just coming into notice. They begin to know F. B., sir, in the
sacred edifices of his metropolitan city. I saw the Bishop of London
looking at me last Sunday week, and am sure his chaplain whispered him,
'It's Mr. Bayham, my lord, nephew of your lordship's right reverend
brother, the Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy.' And last Sunday being at
church--at Saint Mungo the Martyr's, Rev. Sawders--by Wednesday I got in
a female hand--Mrs. Sawders's, no doubt--the biography of the Incumbent
of St. Mungo; an account of his early virtues; a copy of his poems; and a
hint that he was the gentleman destined for the vacant Deanery.
"Ridley is not the only man I have helped in this world," F. B.
continued. "Perhaps I should blush to own it--I do blush: but I feel the
ties of early acquaintance, and I own that I have puffed your uncle,
Charles Honeyman, most tremendously.
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