he
course of which he often addressed ten or a dozen meetings in a day,
thought fit to harangue the electors of Leeds immediately on his
arrival, after travelling all night, and without waiting to perform his
customary ablutions. "These hands are clean!" cried he, at the
conclusion of a diatribe against corruption; but they happened to be
very dirty, and this practical contradiction raised a hearty laugh.

* * * * *

MODERATE FLATTERY.

Jasper Mayne says of Master Cartwright, the author of tolerable comedies
and poems, printed in 1651:--

"Yes, thou to Nature hadst joined art and skill;
In thee, Ben Jonson still held Shakspeare's quill."

* * * * *

EVERY-DAY LIFE OF JAMES SMITH.

"One of the Authors of the _Rejected Addresses_" thus writes to a
friend:[3]--

"Let me enlighten you as to the general disposal of my time. I breakfast
at nine, with a mind undisturbed by matters of business; I then write to
you, or to some editor, and then read till three o'clock. I then walk to
the Union Club, read the journals, hear Lord John Russell deified or
_diablerized_, (that word is not a bad coinage,) do the same with
Sir Robert Peel or the Duke of Wellington; and then join a knot of
conversationists by the fire till six o'clock, consisting of lawyers,
merchants, members of Parliament, and gentlemen at large. We then and
there discuss the three per cent. consols, (some of us preferring Dutch
two-and-a-half per cent.), and speculate upon the probable rise, shape,
and cost of the New Exchange. If Lady Harrington happen to drive past
our window in her landau, we compare her equipage to the Algerine
Ambassador's; and when politics happen to be discussed, rally Whigs,
Radicals, and Conservatives alternately, but never seriously,--such
subjects having a tendency to create acrimony. At six, the room begins
to be deserted; wherefore I adjourn to the dining-room, and gravely
looking over the bill of fare, exclaim to the waiter, 'Haunch of mutton
and apple tart.' These viands despatched, with the accompanying liquids
and water, I mount upward to the library, take a book and my seat in
the arm-chair, and read till nine. Then call for a cup of coffee and a
biscuit, resuming my book till eleven; afterwards return home to bed. If
I have any book here which particularly excites my attention, I place my
lamp on a table by my bed-side, and read in bed until twelve. No da