 review the book, Shandon had handed it over to Mr. Bludyer, with
directions to that author to dispose of it. And he had done so effectually. Mr.
Bludyer, who was a man of very considerable talent, and of a race which, I
believe, is quite extinct in the press of our time, had a certain notoriety in
his profession and reputation for savage humour. He smashed and trampled down
the poor spring flowers with no more mercy than a bull would have on a parterre;
and having cut up the volume to his heart's content, went and sold it at a
bookstall, and purchased a pint of brandy with the proceeds of the volume.
 

                                 Chapter XXXVII

                     Where Pen Appears in Town and Country.

Let us be allowed to pass over a few months of the history of Mr. Arthur
Pendennis's lifetime, during the which many events may have occurred which were
more interesting and exciting to himself than they would be likely to prove to
the reader of his present memoirs. We left him, in the last chapter, regularly
entered upon his business as a professional writer, or literary hack, as Mr.
Warrington chooses to style himself and his friend; and we know how the life of
any hack, legal or literary, in a curacy, or in a marching regiment, or at a
merchant's desk, is full of routine, and tedious of description. One day's
labour resembles another much too closely. A literary man has often to work for
his bread against time, or against his will, or in spite of his health, or of
his indolence, or of his repugnance to the subject on which he is called to
exert himself, just like any other daily toiler. When you want to make money by
Pegasus (as he must, perhaps, who has no other saleable property), farewell
poetry and aërial flights; Pegasus only rises now like Mr. Green's balloon, at
periods advertised beforehand, and when the spectators' money has been paid.
Pegasus trots in harness, over the stony pavement, and pulls a cart or a cab
behind him. Often Pegasus does his work with panting sides and trembling knees,
and not seldom gets a cut of the whip from his driver.
    Do not let us, however, be too prodigal of our pity upon Pegasus. There is
no reason why this animal should be exempt from labour, or illness, or decay,
any more than any of the other creatures of God's world. If he gets the whip,
Pegasus very often deserves it; and I
