570 FVERY MAN HIS OWN STORY-TELLER. 



fortune by trade, and in the latter part of his life pestered his friends 

 with long stories that were deficient in interest. His anecdotes were 

 like those of Farmer Flamborough, in the Vicar of Wakefield, very 

 tedious, and all about himself. If he happens to push himself into a 

 knot of persons, they all flew off from him, like the radii of a circle 

 from the focus. " I remember," he would say, " in the year seven- 

 teen hundred and eighty-three, or eighty-four, I am not quite certain 

 which, though my wife, who has a good memory, has often assured 

 me, contrary to the opinion of my daughter, that it was in the year 

 seventeen hundred and eighty-four, that I got up at eight o'clock in 

 the morning. I always shave with cold water, because hot water 

 makes the face tender, at least so says Barber Humbug, though I 

 have heard Dr. Graspfee tell quite a different story about that matter. 

 I rose at eight o'clock in the morning, as I was saying, and looking 

 out of window saw the sun. It is really a remarkable fine object. 

 A fine morning so revives one. I had no sooner put on my inex- 

 pressibles, than I said to myself, ' I'll take a good walk to-day ; it will 

 do me a pound's worth of service/ Well ! we were all up and down 

 to breakfast by nine o'clock. My wife made tea, and I well remember 

 that I ate two eggs, which is a most unusual thing for me to do. 

 Breakfast being over, I said to my servant Thomas, who now lives 

 with me and probably will live with me till I die ' Thomas/ said I, 

 f bring me my hat/ My hat was brought. ' Now/ said I, ' fetch my 

 stick and gloves,' which was no sooner said than done. I then put on 

 one glove, and after that I put on the other. This is invariably my 

 custom. I then took up my hat in my left hand, and my stick in my 

 right, and walked towards my hall, but turned round to my wife as 

 I left the room, and said, e Patty, I shall be home to dinner/ Thomas 

 opened the street door for me, and shut it after me. I walked down 

 the steps until I came into the street (we then lived in Baker-street), 

 when I said to myself, c shall I go to the right or the left ? shall I walk 

 towards Bond-street or the New-road?' I decided on walking to 

 Bond-street, and proceeded down Baker-street until I arrived at the 

 corner of Portman-square, when now comes the curious part of my 

 story when I met the Bishop of Cloyne, who, walking up to me, 

 and politely bowing (he really is a gentleman a fine gentleman), 

 said, ' I hope I see my Lord of Upper Ossory well ? ' < My lord/ 

 replied I, with a low bow, I am not my Lord of Upper Ossory/ 

 ' Then, Sir/ said he, with an agreeable smile, ' I am mistaken ; but I 

 never saw in my life a gentleman so like his lordship/ Now was not 

 this a very singular incident ? " 



As a corollary to the above I will subjoin a story told by an officer, 

 a young agreeable fellow, who had an off-hand expeditious way 

 of despatching any matter which his memory delivered over to his 

 tongue. I vouch not for the novelty or authenticity of the circum- 

 stance, and desire that the manner of relating it may be only under- 

 stood as bearing upon the subject. " A gentleman, a great hypo- 

 condriac," he would say, " was ordered to remove into Devonshire 

 for the benefit of his health. While in that county, he made frequent 

 excursions on horseback to different parts, where some novelty of 

 scene offered him momentary recreation. One night, while returning 



