Besides the ancient poets, Pen read the English with great
gusto. Smirke sighed and shook his head sadly both about Byron and Moore.
But Pen was a sworn fire-worshipper and a corsair; he had them by heart,
and used to take little Laura into the window and say, "Zuleika, I am not
thy brother," in tones so tragic that they caused the solemn little maid
to open her great eyes still wider. She sat sewing at Mrs. Pendennis's
knee, listening to Pen reading to her without understanding one word of
what he said.
He read Shakespeare to his mother, and Byron and Pope, and his favourite
"Lalla Rookh" and Bishop Heber and Mrs. Hemans, and about this period of
his existence began to write verses of his own. He broke out in the
poet's corner of the County Chronicle with some verses with which he was
perfectly well satisfied. His are the verses signed NEP addressed "To a
Tear," "On the Anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo," "On St.
Bartholomew's Day," etc., etc., all of which masterpieces Mrs. Pendennis
kept along with his first socks, the first cutting of his hair, his
bottle and other interesting relics of his infancy. His genius at this
time was of a decidedly gloomy cast. He brought his mother a tragedy in
which, though he killed sixteen people before the second act, she laughed
so that he thrust the masterpiece into the fire in a pet.
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