Sydney was playing a part in the Whig party,
among the advocates of reforms; the sympathies of Elia went for
the reform of the United Kingdom, and of the universe, too, if
possible,--but he was more interested in a profound thought, brought
forth from the struggling breast of Hazlitt, than in any bill introduced
into Parliament. He was occupied with his old books, his sincere
friends, his beloved sister. He cared little for the _beau monde_, would
rather not look upon a duke or a duchess without a grating between; but,
turning from the current into an eddy, content with the many thoughtful
and original persons whom he had about him, he delighted to fish for the
shyest tenants of the stream and to dive for strange pearls. He loved
remote thoughts, quaint expressions, fantastic ideas. He especially
attached himself to any violent symptoms of human nature. Being in a
picture-gallery, he observed a stout sailor in towering disgust at one
of the old masters, spit his tobacco-juice at it, and swear, with an
expletive, that he could do better himself. The honest opinion honestly
expressed, the truth and vigor of the man, delighted Lamb, and he rushed
up to him to shake hands.
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