on Collingwood,' Sackville would say, laughing, 'we
couldn't do without him in the house. If he didn't spoil the tapestry we
should be 'over-cushioned in a few months; and whom could we get but him
to drink Laura's home-made wine?' The truth is, the gents who came from
the City to dine at the 'Oval' could not be induced to drink it--in
which fastidiousness, I myself, when I grew to be intimate with the
family, confess that I shared.

'And yet, sir, that green ginger has been drunk by some of England's
proudest heroes,' Mrs. Chuff would exclaim. 'Admiral Lord Exmouth
tasted and praised it, sir, on board Captain Chuff's ship, the
"Nebuchadnezzar," 74, at Algiers; and he had three dozen with turn
in the "Pitchfork" frigate, a part of which was served out to the men
before he went into his immortal action with the "Furibonde," Captain
Choufleur, in the Gulf of Panama.'

All this, though the old dowager told us the story every day when the
wine was produced, never served to get rid of any quantity of it--and
the green ginger, though it had fired British tars for combat and
victory, was not to the taste of us peaceful and degenerate gents of
modern times.

I see Sackville now, as on the occasion when, presented by
Wagley, I paid my first visit to him. It was in July--a Sunday
afternoon--Sackville Maine was coming from church, with his wife on one
arm, and his mother-ill-law (in red tabinet, as usual,) on the other.
A half-grown, or hobbadehoyish footman, so to speak, walked after them,
carrying their shining golden prayer-books--the ladies had splendid
parasols with tags and fringes. Mrs. Chuff's great gold watch, fastened
to her stomach, gleamed there like a ball of fire. Nelson Collingwood
was in the distance, shying stones at an old horse on Kennington Common.
'Twas on that verdant spot we met--nor can I ever forget the majestic
courtesy of Mrs. Chuff, as she remembered having had the pleasure of
seeing me at Mrs. Perkins's--nor the glance of scorn which she threw
at an unfortunate gentleman who was preaching an exceedingly desultory
discourse to a sceptical audience of omnibus-cads and nurse-maids, on a
tub, as we passed by. 'I cannot help it, sir,' says she; 'I am the widow
of an officer of Britain's Navy: I was taught to honour my Church and my
King: and I cannot bear a Radical or a Dissenter.'

With these fine principles I found Sackville Maine impressed. 'Wagley,'
said he, to my introducer, 'if no better engagemen