Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. "Won't be under an obligation. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. On the same day, moreover, which, by a curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!" The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in promises to their proselytes. \" added Shari.
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