Of course the contact of Sir George with such a man as Kipperson, affords great merriment:  ex. gr. part of a dinner scene at Neverden Hall:—­

Now Peter was a very literary man, who thought there was nothing worth living for but science and literature; and having somewhere read that it was impossible to take shelter in a shower of rain with such a man as Burke, without discovering him to be a man of genius, Peter was desirous of continually showing off, and was instant in season and out of season.  Therefore when sitting at the table of the worthy baronet, he assailed the magistrate with various scientific subjects, but all to no purpose; there was no response from his worthy host.  Endeavouring to adapt himself to the moderate talents and circumscribed reading of the baronet, he next started the subject of novels and novel reading, taking care to insinuate that, though Sir George might not read the trash of circulating libraries, he might be acquainted with some of our best novels.  To this at last the baronet replied—­“Oh, yes; I remember many years ago reading a novel called Tom Jones, written by a Bow Street officer.  I recollect something about it—­it was very low stuff—­I forget the particulars, but it was written in the manner of servants.”

Hereupon Mr. Peter Kipperson set it down as an indisputable fact that baronets and magistrates were the most ignorant creatures on the face of the earth, and he congratulated himself that neither he nor Sir Isaac Newton were baronets.

A scene between Lord Spoonbill and one of his victims, whom he meets in his father’s park, has some fine touches of remorse:—­

Agitated by distracting thoughts, he stood at the park gate, gazing alternately in different directions; and by the intensity of his feelings was at last rivetted in an almost unconscious state of mind to the spot on which he was standing.  Suddenly his pulse beat quicker, and his heart seemed to swell within him, when at a little distance he saw the dreaded one approaching him.  Had he seen her anywhere else his first impulse would have been to avoid her; but here his truest and best policy was to submit to an interview, however painful.  Shall he meet her with kindness?—­ Shall he meet her with reproaches?—­Shall he meet her with coldness?  These were inquiries rapidly passing through his mind as she drew nearer and nearer.  It was difficult for him to decide between cruelty and hypocrisy; but the last was the most natural to him, so far as custom is a second nature.

The afflicted one moved slowly with her eyes fixed on the ground, and she saw not her enemy till so near to him, that on lifting up her face and recognising his well-known features, the sudden shock produced a slight hysteric shriek.

Lord Spoonbill was not so lost to all feeling of humanity as to be insensible to the anguish of mind which she now suffered, who had once regarded him as a friend, and had loved him, “not wisely, but too well.”  He held out his hand to her with an unpremeditated look of kindness and affection; and which, being unpremeditated, bore the aspect of sincerity.  The stranger at first hesitated, and seemed not disposed to accept the offered hand; but she looked up in his face, and the blood mounted to her cheeks and the tears stood in her eyes, and she gave him her hand, and covered her face and wept bitterly.