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Dr. Brotherton told me that he was once with Matthew Arnold in an election crowd at Oxford, when the Professor of Poetry accidentally collided with a working-man flown with Radicalism and beer.  “Go to blazes!” said the proletarian.  “My friend,” replied Arnold, “we are well met.  In me you see the official representative of Literature, whereas you, I perceive, stand for Dogma.”

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Mrs. Brown of Newquay, who claims to be the original Mrs. Partington, told me that Sydney smith’s last years were overclouded by his inability to discover the riddle to which the answer is contained in the words, “The one rode a horse and the other rode a dendron.”

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Probably few people remember a Nottinghamshire poet of an earlier day who fulfilled with much conscientiousness the duties of local laureate.  It was the age of Notts’s pre-eminence in cricket, and that, with other reasons, inspired the bard to write some verses which opened with the line, “Is there a county to compare with Notts?” The county of Derby was jealous of its neighbour in other things besides sport, and considered itself to have scored when its own tame minstrel retorted with a parody ending:—­

“Is there a county to compare with Notts? 
Lots!”

Unfortunately the thing was catching, and other counties did their best to follow suit, though with considerable difficulty as to rhymes.  I think it was a singer of Tavistock who won the laurels.  After disposing of an adjacent rival with the contemptuous jingle, “Dorset—­Curse it!” he wound up:—­

“Is there a country to compare with Devon? 
Heaven!”

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Lady Crownderby once told me that she was among the first to see Lord Houghton on his return from Spain, and she asked him what he thought of Spanish women in comparison with those of our own country.  “My dear lady,” replied Houghton, “I feel like lot when he escaped from the Cities of the Plain.”

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At a dinner given in honour of her nephew’s appointment to a Rural Deanery, Mrs. Hinkson-Hanksey told me that she once rallied Disraeli on his lack of religious profession, saying how much it compromised him in the eyes of many of his fellow-countrymen in comparison with his great rival.  “My dear lady,” said Disraeli, “you are aware that the New Testament divides all men into two categories.  Without specifying the class to which I personally belong, I am quite willing to admit that Mr. Gladstone is a sheep and possesses many of the characteristics of that admirable animal.”

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