e,
and, as soon as the battery was applied to his spine, the body very
gently raised its arm, and put its fingers to its nose, as if it were
taking a pinch."

"You saw that yourself, Mr Phillott?" observed the captain, looking the
first lieutenant earnestly in the face.

"Yes, sir," replied Mr Phillott, coolly.

"Have you told that story often?"

"Very often, sir."

"Because I know that some people, by constantly telling a story, at last
believe it to be true; not that I refer to you, Mr Phillott, but still
I should recommend you not to tell that story where you are not well
known, or people may doubt your credibility."

"I make it a rule to believe everything myself," observed Mr Phillott,
"out of politeness; and I expect the same courtesy from others."

"Then, upon my soul! when you tell that story, you trespass very much
upon our good manners. Talking of courtesy, you might meet a friend of
mine, who has been a courtier all his life; he cannot help bowing. I
have seen him bow to his horse, and thank him after he had dismounted--
beg pardon of a puppy for treading on his tail; and one day, when he
fell over a scraper, he took off his hat, and made it a thousand
apologies for his inattention."

"Force of habit again," said O'Brien.

"Exactly so. Mr Simple, will you take a slice of this pork; and
perhaps you'll do me the honour to take a glass of wine? Lord Privilege
would not much admire your dinner to-day, would he, Mr Simple?"

"As a variety he might, sir, but not for a continuance."

"Very truly said. Variety is charming. The negroes here get so tired
of salt fish and occra broth, that they eat dirt by way of a relish.
Mr O'Brien, how remarkably well you played that sonata of Pleydel's
this morning."

"I am happy that I did not annoy you, Captain Kearney, at all events,"
replied O'Brien.

"On the contrary, I am very partial to good music. My mother was a
great performer. I recollect once, she was performing a piece on the
piano, in which she had to imitate a _thunder storm_. So admirably did
she hit it off, that when we went to tea, all the cream was _turned
sour_, as well as three casks of _beer_ in the cellar."

At this assertion Mr Phillott could contain himself no longer; he burst
out into a loud laugh, and having a glass of wine to his lips, spattered
it all over the table, and over me, who unfortunately was opposite to
him.

"I really beg pardon, Captain Kearney, but the idea of su