THROUGH A GLASS LIGHTLY
learning; and let us say at once that, whatever his origin, he has grown manifestly, and flagrantly, bourgeois. As often as not, he is not Sherry, but Sherry-Wine: a most fiery, damnable, and discouraging beverage. In his working suit he tempers the ham sandwich to the shorn stockbroker, and divides the business day into meted periods; and thus far has his uses. His tastes are commercial, and he rarely enters the realm of fancy; for, though he is an emolument of laureates, it is doubtful if he ever inspired a stave of true poetry. The odd part about him is that he is inordinately ours, and is more at home by Thames’ side than on the banks of the Guadalquiver. By travelling hitherward so oft and for so long a time, he has become more British than home-
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