the fire—­ah, I should—­’urt and indignant at the hinsult!” (Here you will probably assure him that you have no intention of outraging his feelings in any such manner.) “No, and why, Sir?  Because you ’ave a gentlemanly ’art, and if you were to make sech a orfer, you would do it in a kindly Christian spirit which would rob it of all offence.  There’s not many as I would bring myself to accept a paltry sovereign from, but I dunno—­I might from one like yourself—­I might Ord hignara mali, miseris succurreary disco, as the old philosopher says.  You ’ave that kind of way with you.” (You mildly intimate that he is mistaken here, and take the opportunity of touching the bell).  “No, Sir, don’t be untrue to your better himpulses. ’Ave a feelin ’art, Sir!  Don’t send me away, after allowing me to waste my time ’ere—­which is of value to me, let me tell yer, whatever yours is!—­like this!...  Well, well, there’s ’ard people in this world?  I’m going, Sir ...  I ’ave sufficient dignity to take a ’int ...  You ’aven’t got even a trifle to spare an old University Scholar in redooced circumstances then?...  Ah, it’s easy to see you ain’t been at a University yourself—­you ain’t got the hair of it!  Farewell, Sir, and may your lot in life be ’appier than—­All right, don’t hexcite yourself.  I’ve bin mistook in yer, that’s all.  I thought you was as soft-edded a young mug as you look.  Open that door, will yer; I want to get out of this ’ole!”

Here he leaves you with every indication of disgust and disappointment, and you will probably hear him indulging in unclassical vituperation on the landing.

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

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The Baron is delighted with MONTAGU WILLIAMS’s third volume of Reminiscences, published by MACMILLAN & Co.  His cheery after-dinner conversational style of telling capital stories is excellent.  He is not writing a book, he is talking to us; he is telling us a series of good things, and, quoth the Baron, let me advise you to light your cigar and sit down in your armchair before the fire, as not only do you not wish to interrupt him, even with a query, but you feel inclined to say, as the children do when, seated round you in the wintry twilight, they have been listening to a story which has deeply interested them—­“Go on, please, tell us another!” The following interpolated “aside,” most characteristic of MONTAGU WILLIAMS’s life-like conversational manner of telling a story, occurs at page 8, where giving an account of a robbery, of which he himself was the victim, and telling how a thief asked to be shown up to his, the narrator’s room, he says, “The porter, like a fool, gave his consent.”  The interpolated “like a fool,” carries the jury, tells the whole story, and wins admiration for the sufferer, who is the real hero of the tale.  But beyond the book’s merit as an interesting and amusing companion, it contains some valuable practical suggestions for relieving the ordinary distress in the poorest districts which ought to receive attention in the highest quarters.