arsala, by Jove, your Ladyship means!" shouts Mr. Slang. "No,
no, old birds are not caught with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have some
of your Comet hock."

"My Lady Thrum, I believe that IS Marsala," says the knight, blushing a
little, in reply to a question from his Sophia. "Ajax, the hock to Mr.
Slang."

"I'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the table. "My Lord, I'll
join you."

"Mr. ----, I beg your pardon--I shall be very happy to take wine with
you, sir."

"It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper writer," whispers Lady
Thrum.

"Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare say. He has a very loud
voice, and reminds me of Brett. Does your Ladyship remember Brett, who
played the 'Fathers' at the Haymarket in 1802?"

"What an old stupid Roundtowers is!" says Slang, archly, nudging Mrs.
Walker in the side. "How's Walker, eh?"

"My husband is in the country," replied Mrs. Walker, hesitatingly.

"Gammon! _I_ know where he is! Law bless you!--don't blush. I've been
there myself a dozen times. We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Were
you ever in college?"

"I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, when the sovereigns were
there, and at Cambridge when Sir George received his degree of Doctor of
Music."

"Laud, Laud, THAT'S not the college WE mean."

"There is also the college in Gower Street, where my grandson--"

"This is the college in QUEER STREET, ma'am, haw, haw! Mulligan, you
divvle (in an Irish accent), a glass of wine with you. Wine, here, you
waiter! What's your name, you black nigger? 'Possum up a gum-tree, eh?
Fill him up. Dere he go" (imitating the Mandingo manner of speaking
English)

In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, speedily making himself
the centre of the conversation, and addressing graceful familiarities to
all the gentlemen and ladies round him.

It was good to see how the little knight, the most moral and calm of
men, was compelled to receive Mr. Slang's stories and the frightened air
with which, at the conclusion of one of them, he would venture upon
a commendatory grin. His lady, on her part too, had been laboriously
civil; and, on the occasion on which I had the honour of meeting this
gentleman and Mrs. Walker, it was the latter who gave the signal for
withdrawing to the lady of the house, by saying, "I think, Lady Thrum,
it is quite time for us to retire." Some exquisite joke of Mr. Slang's
was the cause of this abrupt disappearance. But, as they