The next in balderdash—in both the last:
The force of Nature could no further go;
To make a third, she join’d the former two!
Lord Yelverton, not expecting the lampoon to come in form of a letter, was greatly diverted; it was read over and over again, amidst roars of laughter. Every body entertained his own conjecture respecting the writer, and each barrister appropriated to himself one of the three characteristics. I was not at all suspected that night, since I had in nowise interfered, and my brief absence had not been noticed: but next day in court, it somehow came out. Nobody but Hoare was vexed, and him I silenced by threatening that I would write another epigram on him solus if he provoked me. He vowed at first he would make an example of me; and by cutting satire he was well able to do so: but I got him into good humour before we parted.
Egan, however, professed annoyance at me from some cause or other in the course of that same day. He was never remarkable for the correctness of his English. In speaking to some motion that was pending, he used the word obdurate frequently. I happened to laugh; Egan turned round, and then addressing himself to the chief baron, “I suppose, my lord,” said he ironically, “the gentleman laughs at my happening to pronounce the word obdurate wrong.”
“No, my lord,” replied I, “I only laughed because he happened to pronounce it right!”
I never heard him utter the word obdurate afterward.
MR. NORCOT’S ATTEMPT AT SUICIDE.
The hollowness of interested popularity illustrated in the example of Mr. Norcot—The dilemma of a gamester—The last resource—The “faithful” valet—Mr. Norcot turns Mahometan—His equivocal destiny.
Mr. Norcot was an eccentric Irish barrister, the uncertainty of whose fate has given rise to a vast number of surmises: the last authentic account described him as a Turk selling rhubarb and opium in the streets of Smyrna! When the Duke of Richmond was lord lieutenant of Ireland he was a great favourite at the Castle revels. He could drink as stoutly as the duke himself, touch the piano as well as a lady, or gamble as deeply as any of the gentlemen: he could jest even better than Sir Charles Vernon, and drove all other bachelors out of the field at the vice-regal orgies. Hence his reception was so flattering, that he discarded all reflection, and at length found his purse empty, his resources dry, his profession unproductive, his estate melted down, and his reputation not improved. The noble duke gave him no place—but at his dinner-table, while smiles and lemonade were the favours of the duchess:—the courtiers turned their faces toward him whilst he was rich, and their backs when he had grown poor: his best puns began to pass without notice, his mimicry excited no laughter, and his most high-flown compliments scarcely received a curtsey.