"He's wishing you a Happy New 'Ear—and God knows you want one!" shouted Markie.
One of the most unexpected events in which I ever took part occurred at Scarborough, where I was staying for the races with Mr. Robert Vyner. In the same hotel were staying two well-known members of the racing world, Mr. Dudley Milner and Mr. Johnny Shafto. Vyner and I happened to enter the large and long room, used for assemblies; when we perceived Dudley Milner and Johnny Shafto standing at the other end, and observed that they were arguing together, somewhat heatedly, in broad Yorkshire. They were disputing, as racing men do at such times, about weights in an impending handicap.
There was nothing at all in the great room, so far as I remember, except a sideboard and a dish filled with pats of butter which stood on the sideboard. I picked up a pat of butter on the end of the ash-plant I was carrying, and told Vyner that if he would come outside, I would throw the pat of butter to a surprising distance.
"Why go outside?" said he. "Why not take a shot at those two fellows who are arguing so busily over there?"
"And so I will," said I.
The pat of butter described a beautiful yellow parabola at high speed and lighted upon the eye of one of the disputants. The impact doubled him up, and he thought that the other man had hit him. Drawing his right fist back very slowly and carefully, he struck his friend full on the point of the nose. The next moment they were both rolling on the floor, fighting like cats. My companion and I were laughing so much that we couldn't separate them; and they finally had to go to bed for a week to recover themselves of their wounds.
Butter produces various effects, according to its application. I was one of the guests among a large party at a luncheon, given by an old gentleman who had a fancy for breeding pugs, which were then the fashionable breed of dog. On the table opposite to me was a glass bowl containing a quantity of pats of butter; and as each of the many pugs in the room came to me, I gave him a pat of butter on the end of a fork. He gently snuggled it down. After about ten minutes first one pug and then another began to be audibly unwell. The old gentleman was so terrified at these alarming symptoms, that he incontinently dispatched a carriage at speed to fetch the nearest vet That expert, after a careful diagnosis, reported that "someone must have been feeding the pugs on butter."
My brother Marcus, travelling by rail with some friends, Mr. Dudley Milner being of the party, Markie very kindly relieved the tedium of the journey. Dudley Milner had fallen asleep. Marcus took the ticket from Milner's pocket. He then woke up Milner, telling him that the tickets were about to be collected. Milner, after feverishly searching for his ticket, was forced to the conclusion that he had lost it, and, finding that he had very little money, begged that someone would lend him the requisite sum. One and all, with profuse apologies, declared themselves to be almost penniless; and Milner was nearing despair, when my brother sympathetically suggested that, as the train approached the station Milner should hide under the seat, and all would be well. Thereupon Milner, assisted by several pairs of feet, struggled under the seat, and his friends screened him with their legs.
The collector appeared, and Marcus gave him all the tickets.
"Here's six tickets for five gentlemen," said the collector.