I recalled the answer made by a friend to a strong appeal from a class office, and that was, that he was neither a medical nor a general, and therefore not eligible; at the same time holding the door open for his visitor's exit. But then I did not feel myself equal to such a task, and however importunate and troublesome a visitor might be, I somehow felt constrained to treat him in a gentlemanly manner. I tried all the gentle hints I could, and then used more forcible ones; but the gentlemanly man seemed cased in armour of proof, from which my feeble shafts glanced and went anywhere; while, whenever he saw that I was about to make a fresh attack, he was at me like Mr Branestrong, QC, and beat down my guard in a moment. It took a long time to eradicate the bland, but it went at last, and a faint flush seemed to make its way into my face, while to proceed to extremities, there was a peculiar nervous twitching in one toe, originating in its debility caused by a table once falling upon it, but now the twitches seemed of a growing or expanding nature, and as if they were struggling hard to become kicks. It was pain unutterable, especially when the moral law asserted its rights, and an aspect of suavity was ruled by reason to be the order of the day--if allied with firmness. "If allied with firmness." Ah! but there was the rub, for firmness had turned craven and vanished at the first appearance of my visitor. "No; I would rather not assure then; I would think it over; I would make up my mind shortly; I felt undecided as to the office I should choose," were my replies, _et hoc genus omne_; but all was of no avail, and at last I acknowledged to myself that I could not hold my own, and must speak very strongly to get rid of my unwelcome friend, who solved my problem himself by asking whether I admired poetry. Presuming that this was to change the conversation, preparatory to taking his leave, I replied, "Yes." "Then he would read me a short poem on the subject in question," and drawing from his pocket a piece of paper, he began in a most forced declamatory style to read some doggerel concerning a gentleman who was taken to heaven, but who left a wife and seven--rhyme to heaven--and whose affairs would have been most unsatisfactory if he had not assured his life. But my friend did not finish, being apparently startled by some look or movement upon my part, which caused him to hurriedly say "Good morning," and to promise to call again, as I seemed busy. Perhaps he may call again; but he will have to call again, and again, and again, and very loudly too, before he gets in to talk upon particular business.