'They had walked together to the office of one of the morning newspapers, and there the doctor silently placed upon the counter an announcement of the death of some friend, together with five shillings, the usual charge for the insertion of such advertisements. The clerk glanced at the paper, tossed it on one side, and said gruffly, "Seven and six!"
'"I have frequently," replied Hume, "had occasion to publish these simple notices, and I have never before been charged more than five shillings."
'"Simple!" repeated the clerk, without looking up; "He's universally beloved, and deeply regretted! Seven and six."
'Hume produced the additional half crown, and laid it deliberately by the others, observing, as he did so, with the same solemnity of tone he had used throughout, "Congratulate yourself, sir, that this is an expense which your executors will never be put to."'
We hope that unlucky clerk could understand the rebuke that he received; but to us it appears that sarcasm is generally thrown away on such people. They are pachyderms.
The book contains some capital stories of poor Theodore Hook, that marvellously wasted intellect. His great power lay in impromptu, of prose or verse, spoken or written. No man has ever equalled him at a paragraph or a squib, except as to the latter, Garrick and Coleridge. Nobody was ever so exquisite a conversational wit. And certainly no one has ever possessed his power of improvisation in English. He threw off stanza and strophe as fast as a knifegrinder's wheel throws sparks. He scintillated always. Coleridge, after an evening in his company, declared he was as great a genius as Dante. His felicity was invariable. When he was improvising at the piano, after luncheon, at his Fulham villa, enter the ancilla, to say Mr. Winter, the tax collector, has called. Ejaculates Hook:—
'Here comes Mr. Winter, collector of taxes;
I advise you to give him whatever he axes!
He isn't the man to stand nonsense or flummery.