hope Readers (for it would be a pity to have only one), I am too tired to tell you much, and there is also an excellent rule that when you 've done telling a story you should tack nothing on.
How the miserable Professor was deluged with begging letters; how he nearly went mad until Babcock suggested a plan; how that plan was to pretend that he had left all the ten thousand pounds to the University upon his death and could not touch it; how his colleagues marvelled that with this new fortune he went on plodding as industriously as ever; how Sir John Brassington secretly but thoroughly enjoyed his Baronetcy; how Mr. Kirby delivered three addresses for nothing upon Racial Problems, two in Ormeston and one in the East End of London; how Professor Higginson was compelled for many years to review the wildest books about spooks, and to lecture until he was as thin as a rail (often for nothing) upon the same subject—all these things you will have to read in some other book, which I most certainly do not mean to write, and which I do not think anybody else will write for you.
How the Guelph University looked when
