d
violate some of the multitudinous every-day usages of society, and so,
instead of enjoying his dinner, just nibbled and choked and watched how
others ate of the dishes he had never seen before. Yet this man was no
fool, he was not even a blockhead; but he was frightened out of all
propriety nevertheless. Poor fellow! Soon after this he went to Paris,
and, having picked up a few French sentences, undertook to pass off one
upon a servant who took his cloak as he entered the hotel of a French
celebrity in a violent rainstorm. He flung the phrase off with an air,
saying, "Mauvais temps," whereupon the word was passed up from mouth to
mouth, and, to his unutterable horror, he was introduced to the company
as M. Mauvais Temps.

* * * * *

_Painting._--I have just been to see Mulready's famous "Lion and Lamb."
He is a Royal Academician; and, spite of the cleverness we see in every
touch, we are reminded of Pison's reply to the Academician, who asked
what he was,--"I? O, I am nobody; not even an Academician." The picture
is about eighteen by twenty-two inches, and belongs to his Majesty,
George the Fourth. It represents two boys, a little child, a woman, and
a dog. One boy has broken the strap of his trousers, and, bracing
himself up for a clinch, is evidently encroaching on the other with his
foot. He stands with his legs on the straddle, both fists made up for
mischief, and head turned away in profile, with hat and books flung down
upon the turf; while the other--the lamb--keeps his satchel in his hand,
with one arm raised to parry the blow he is expecting. He has a meek,
boyish face, and we have it in full. The back of the child is towards
you, the mother terribly frightened; parts very fine, but as a whole the
picture is not worthy of its reputation, to say nothing of the
extravagant price paid for it,--some hundreds of guineas, they say.

* * * * *

_Greenwich Fair._--Having read so much in story-books and novels, from
my earliest childhood,--at one time in the gilt-covered publication of
E. Newbury, St. Paul's Church Yard, and after that in larger books,--of
the rioting at Greenwich Fair (another Donnybrook in its way), I
determined to see for myself, and went down for the purpose, April 19th,
1824. Universal decorum characterized the whole proceedings till the day
was over, after which there was a large amount of dancing and frolicking
and sight-seeing a