Y old friend Maltby, the brother of the bishop, was a very absent man. One day at Paris, in the Louvre, we were looking at the pictures, when a lady entered who spoke to me, and kept me some minutes in conversation. On rejoining Maltby, I said, "That was Mrs. ——. We have not met so long, she had almost forgotten me, and asked me if my name was Rogers." Maltby, still looking at the pictures, "And was it?"
Rogers, apud J. R. Planché.
O one likes to be disturbed at meals
Or love.
Lord Byron, Don Juan.
HAT is man's end? To know and to be free.
Think you to compass it by tracts and tea?
Alfred Austin, The Season.