ished that speechmakers
one and all would recollect that a few words well-chosen and to the
point, and a timely termination, are far more acceptable to the listener
than all their maundering oratorical tours "from China to Peru," from
the Mansion House to the moon. When I am going to a City dinner my own
children show a lively interest to know the name of the Company, and if
I name the Skinners' Guild their interest culminates in uproarious
delight; but if I mention any other, most uncomplimentary groans greet
the announcement, for the guests of the Company to which I refer can
choose either to take or have sent to them a huge box of the choicest
sweetmeats when the entertainment is over.

[Illustration: J. WHISTLER, AFTER A CITY DINNER. (DRAWN WITH MY LEFT
HAND.)]

_A propos_ of this, I recollect an incident the mention of which will, I
fear, send a cold shudder through any worshipper of "Nubian" nocturnes
and incomprehensible "arrangements." On one occasion after leaving the
banquet of this Guild I beheld Whistler--"Jimmy" of the snowy tuft, the
martyred butterfly of the "peacock room"--to whose impressionable soul
the very thought of a sugar-stick should be direst agony, actually
making his way homewards hugging a great box of lollipops!

[Illustration: AN ODD VOLUME.]

I met a curious City man, not at a City dinner, but at "Ye Odd Volumes,"
where we both happened to be guests. He was certainly an odd-looking
guest, a very old volume out-of-date--odd-fashioned overcoat with gold
buttons, an odd-fashioned "stock," and an odd-looking shirt. While
waiting for dinner he looked at me oddly, and eventually addressed me in
this odd way:

"Sir, may I have the pleasure of exchanging names with you?"

"Why, certainly; my name is Harry Furniss."

"H'm, ha, eh, ha!" and he walked away.

After dinner came the speeches. As each guest was called upon, my odd
friend was to his evident chagrin not named; I noticed from time to time
the old gentleman was elevated--sitting high. At last, after I had
returned thanks for the visitors, he rose and asked to be allowed to
speak. He said something nice about me--the reason he explained to me
later. The burthen of his speech was a protest that he had not seen one
odd volume that night. "If you've got 'em, produce 'em. Ah!" (snapping
his fingers at the company in general) "I don't think you know what an
odd volume is!" And then turning round he placed on the table a huge
volume on wh