These notices were habitually sent down to him at Hampton, and his custom was to make his wife or her mother read them, while he sat by in lordly ease in his arm-chair, receiving homage when homage came to him, and criticizing the critics when they were uncivil.
'Have you ?' said Charley.

'What is it?
Why did you not show it me before ?' 'Why, we were talking of dear Gertrude,' said Katie; 'and it is not so pleasant but that it will keep.

What paper do you think it is ?' 'What paper?
how on earth can I tell ?--show it me.' 'No; but do guess, Charley; and then mamma will read it--pray guess now.' 'Oh, bother, I can't guess.

_The Literary Censor_, I suppose--I know they have turned against me.' 'No, it's not that,' said Linda; 'guess again.' '_The Guardian Angel_,' said Charley.
'No--that angel has not taken you under his wings as yet,' said Katie.
'I know it's not the _Times_,' said Charley, 'for I have seen that.' 'O no,' said Katie, seriously; 'if it was anything of that sort, we would not keep you in suspense.' 'Well, I'll be shot if I guess any more--there are such thousands of them.' 'But there is only one _Daily Delight_,' said Mrs.Woodward.
'Nonsense!' said Charley.

'You don't mean to tell me that my dear old friend and foster-father has fallen foul of me--my old teacher and master, if not spiritual pastor; well--well--well! The ingratitude of the age! I gave him my two beautiful stories, the first-fruits of my vine, all for love; to think that he should now lay his treacherous axe to the root of the young tree -- well, give it here.' 'No--mamma will read it--we want Harry to hear it.' 'O yes--let Mrs.Woodward read it,' said Harry.