"
Julius Sandal had precisely those superficial excellences which the
world is ready to accept at their apparent value; and he had been in so
many schools, and imbibed such a variety of opinions, that he had a
mental suit for all occasions. "He knows about every thing," said Sandal
to the clergyman, at the close of an evening spent together,--an evening
in which Julius had been particularly interesting. "Don't you think so,
sir?"
The rector looked up at the starry sky, and around the mountain-girdled
valley, and answered slowly, "He has a great many ideas, squire; but
they are second-hand, and do not fit his intellect."
Charlotte had much the same opinion of the paragon, only she expressed
it in a different way. "He believes in every thing, and he might as well
believe in nothing. Confucius and Christ are about the same to him, and
he thinks Juggernaut only 'a clumsier spelling of a name which no man
spells correctly.'"
"His mind is like a fine mosaic, Charlotte."
"Oh, indeed, Sophia, I don't think so! Mosaics have a design and fit it.
The mind of Julius is more like that quilt of a thousand pieces which
grandmother patched. There they are, the whole thousand, just bits of
color, all sizes and shapes. I would rather have a good square of white
Marseilles."
"I don't think you ought to speak in such a way, Charlotte. You can't
help seeing how much he admires you.
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