What say you now, brother Caxton?
Visne edere pomum?
as we used to say at school." "I don't want a shilling more than I have got," said my father, resolutely.

"My wife would not love me better; my food would not nourish me more; my boy would not, in all probability, be half so hardy, or a tenth part so industrious; and--" "But," interrupted Uncle Jack, pertinaciously, and reserving his grand argument for the last, "the good you would confer on the community; the progress given to the natural productions of your country; the wholesome beverage of cider brought within cheap reach of the laboring classes.

If it was only for your sake, should I have urged this question?
Should I now?
Is it in my character?
But for the sake of the public! mankind! of our fellow-creatures! Why, sir, England could not get on if gentlemen like you had not a little philanthropy and speculation." "Papoe!" exclaimed my father; "to think that England can't get on without turning Austin Caxton into an apple-merchant! My dear Jack, listen.

You remind me of a colloquy in this book,--wait a bit, here it is, 'Pamphagus and Cocles.' Cocles recognizes his friend, who had been absent for many years, by his eminent and remarkable nose.

Pamphagus says, rather irritably, that he is not ashamed of his nose.