The editor peremptorily insists upon that kind of thing.' '_Omne tulit punctum_,' said Norman.
'Yes, I dare say,' said Charley, who was now too intent on his own new profession to attend much to his friend's quotation.
'Well, where was I ?--Oh! the eldest son of Sir Waldemar went off with another lady and so the feud began.

There is a very pretty scene between Adelgitha and her lady's-maid.' 'What, seven centuries before the story begins ?' 'Why not?
The editor says that the unities are altogether thrown over now, and that they are regular bosh--our game is to stick in a good bit whenever we can get it--I got to be so fond of Adelgitha that I rather think she's the heroine.' 'But doesn't that take off the interest from your dead grandees ?' 'Not a bit; I take it chapter and chapter about.

Well, you see, the retainers had no sooner made mincemeat of the Baron--a very elegant young man was the Baron, just returned from the Continent, where he had learnt to throw aside all prejudices about family feuds and everything eke, and he had just come over in a friendly way, to say as much to Sir Anthony, when, as he crossed the drawbridge, he stumbled over the corpse of his ancient enemy--well, the retainers had no sooner made mincemeat of him, than they perceived that Sir Anthony was lying with an open bottle in his hand, and that he had taken poison.' 'Having committed suicide ?' asked Norman.
'No, not at all.

The editor says that we must always have a slap at some of the iniquities of the times.

He gave me three or four to choose from; there was the adulteration of food, and the want of education for the poor, and street music, and the miscellaneous sale of poisons.' 'And so you chose poisons and killed the knight ?' 'Exactly; at least I didn't kill him, for he comes all right again after a bit.