“Mr. Temple—the address from Nottingham—Where’s the reply?”
“Mr. Temple, may I know whether his lordship means to see us gentlemen from the city about the loan?”
“Sir—Pray, sir!—My new invention for rifling cannon—Ordnance department!—Sir, I did apply—War-office, too, sir!—It’s very hard I can’t get an answer—bandied about!—Sir, I can’t think myself well used—Government shall hear more.”
“One word, Mr. Temple, if you please, about tithes. I’ve an idea—”
“Temple, don’t forget the Littleford turnpike bill.”
“Mr. Temple, who is to second the motion on Indian affairs?”
“Temple, my good friend, did you speak to Lord Oldborough about my little affair for Tom?”
“Mr. Temple, a word in your ear—the member for the borough, you know, is dead; letters must be written directly to the corporation.”
“Temple, my dear friend, before you go, give me a frank.”
At last Mr. Temple got away from memorialists, petitioners, grievances, men of business, idle men, newsmen, and dear friends, then hastened to Alfred to unburden his mind—and to rest his exhausted spirits.