WORK FOR THE RECESS.
OFF TO MASHERLAND.
(By Our Own Grandolph.)
A FEW REMINISCENCES.
Begin to regret dinners on board the Grantully Castle. The other day was regretting the Amphitryon. Don't go so far back as the Albemarle-Street Amphitryon, quite satisfied with a simple Donald Currie. [Mem.—The proverb hath much truth in it that saith, "Go farther and fare worse.">[ Sick of chicken. With poetic epigrammacy might say, "Quite sick Of chick." Stringy chickens, too! One has to tug at them; sort of game of "poulet-hauly"—as DRUMMY would say. Though were he here, I doubt if he would say anything. He certainly would eat nothing: probably would only open his mouth to observe, "I'm off!" and then we should see him no more. Quite right. So would I—but for "my oath, my Lord, my oath!" (N.B.—This is a quotation. Sure of it. Where from? Don't know. Tragedy probably; sounds tragic. No matter. Can give it with effect in a speech, and Members turn to one another and ask, "What's that from?" When they ask me confidentially afterwards, I reply with an air of intense surprise, "What! don't you know! Well!!" and I turn on my heel, leaving CHUCKLEHEAD, M.P., annoyed with himself,—"planté là" as DRUMMY would say,—for being so ignorant, and for having displayed his ignorance so palpably. Off he goes to British Museum and searches for quotation. This gives him opportunity of acquiring much useful knowledge, which, but for me, he would not have had. Rather a long parenthesis this. So—on we goes again.)