What Will He Do With It, Book 3.

of names is apparent in all history.-If Augustus had called himself king, Rome would have risen against him as a Tarquin; so he remained

f elongation. Monosyllables are not imposing, and in striking compositions their meaning is elevated by periphra

; "I don't think the name of Mop woul

d a threepenny audience-reserved seats a shilling-he may aspire to half-crowns and dress-boxes; that is, if we can hit on a name which inspires respect. Now, although the dog is big, it is not by his size that he is to become famous, or we might c

t, indeed, G

behind them a proverbial renown for wisdom. There is, indeed, Solomon, but he fell off at the last; and as he belongs to sacred

musing pause).-

ut then he was not hu

call him Socrates,

tes, Socrates

't take to Soc

out the Brazen Head, Friar Baco

; historical, yet familiar. What does Mop say

axingly).

human, not present, rouses up, walks to the door, smells at the chink, returns,

es not take t

approve of anything that savours of magical practices. Mop intimates that on enteri

e. He thought of the seven wise men of Greece, but could only recall the nomenclature of two out of the-even,-a sad proof of the distinction between collegiate fame and

a name of which he might have had vague reminiscences. The Romans not having cultivated an original philosophy, though they contrived to prod

or, and Julius Caesar, and Pompey, and Bonaparte, and Alexander the Great, and the Duke of Marlborough. Or, if he wrote poetry, we could fit him to a hair. But wise men certainly are scarce, and when on

all, Mop's great strength will probably be in arithmetic, and the science of numbers is the root of all wisdom. Besides, every man, high and low, wants to make a fortune, and associations connected with addition and

ut his head first on one

endearment).-"Cocker, go

ker, Cocke

s perplexities in a long and lugubrious howl, to which certainly

r gun-wise; and at the word of command, "Down," Mop was on his side, stiff and lifeless. "Still," said W

had sprung to his four feet, and, with wagging tail and

Waife, rather awed.

Sir Isaac,

answered Mo

migrated into that incomparable animal! Newton, Newton!" To that name Mop made no obeisance, but, evidently still restless

sed in the principle of gravity. Sir Isaac!" The dog bounded towards him, put his paws on his shoulder, and licked his face. "Just cut

"Now, Sir Isaac." Mop lifted a paw, and walked deliberately round the letters. "Now, Sir Isaac, how much are ten times t

ied Sophy, much alarmed

nothing to do

human genius which seems to arrive at results by intuition, which a child might pose by a row of figures on a slate, while it is solving the laws that link the stars to infinity! But /revenons a nos moutons/, what was the astral attraction that incontestably bound the reminiscences of Mop to the cognominal distinction of Sir Isaac? I had prepared a very erudite and subtle treatise upon this query, enlivened by quotations from the ancient Mystics,-such as Iamblicus and Proclus,-as well as by a copious reference to the doctrine of the more modern Spiritualists, from Sir Kenelm Digby and Swedenborg, to Monsieur Cahagnet and Judge Edwards. It was to be called Inquiry into the Law of Affinities, by Philomopsos: when, unluckily for my treatise, I arrived at the knowledge of a fact which, though it did not render the treatise less curious, knocked on the head the theory upon which it was based. The baptismal name of the old soldier, Mop's first proprietor and earliest preceptor, was Isaac; and his master being called in the homely household by that Christian name, the sound had entered into Mop's youngest and most endeared associations. His canine affections had done much towards ripening his scholastic education. "Where is Isaac?" "Call Isaac!" "Fetch Isaac his hat," etc. Stilled was that name when the old soldier died; but when heard again, Mop's heart was moved, and in missing the old master, he felt more at home with