“And I 'll take as much as you 'll spare me out of your book, Grog,” said Beecher, enthusiastically, while he filled his glass and drained it. “You see,” said Davis, in a low, confidential tone, as if imparting a great secret, “I've always remarked that the way they smash a fellow in Parliament--I don't care in which House--is always by raking up something or other he did years before. If he wrote a play, or a novel, or a book of poems, they 're down on him at once, about his imagination and his fancy,--that means, he never told a word of truth in his life. If he was unfortunate in business, they 're sure to refer to him about some change in the Law of Bankruptcy, and say, 'There's my honorable friend yonder ought to be able to help us by his experiences!' Then, if a fellow has only his wits about him, how he floors them! You see there's a great deal of capital to be made out of one of these attacks. You rise to reply, without any anger or passion; only dignity,--nothing but dignity! You appeal to the House if the assault of the right honorable baronet opposite was strictly in good taste,--whatever that means. You ask why you are signalled out to be the mark of his eloquence, or his wit, or whatever it be; and then you come out with a fine account of yourself, and all the honorable motives that nobody ever suspected you of. That's the moment to praise everything you ever did, or meant to do, or couldn't do; that's the time to show them what a man they have amongst them.” “Capital, glorious, excellent!” cried Beecher, in delight “Well, suppose now,” said Davis, “there 's a bill about marriages,--they 're always changing the law about them; it's evidently a contract does n't work quite smoothly for all parties,--well, there's sure to be many a spicy remark and impertinent allusion in the debate; it's a sore subject, and every one has a 'raw' on it; and, at last, somebody says something about unequal matches, alliances with an inferior class, 'noble lords that have not scrupled to mingle the ancient blood of their race with the--the thin and washy current that flows in plebeian veins.' I 'm the Lord Chancellor, now,” said Grog, boldly, “and I immediately turn round and fix my eyes upon _you_. Up you get at once, and say, 'I accept, my Lords,--I accept for myself, and my own case, every word the noble Duke or Marquis has just uttered. It never would have occurred to me to make my personal history the subject of your Lordships' attention; but when thus rudely brought before you,--rudely and gratuitously introduced--'Here you 'd frown at the last speaker, as much as to say, 'You 'll hear more about this outside--'” “Go on,--go on!” cried Beecher, with impatience.