Antony Harrison and I mused in silence, and racked our brains, but to no purpose. On the tablet of our memories no trace had been engraved, and the tale of Humphries, as reported by Harlow, was as if it were not, so far as we were concerned. While we were in this perplexity, Joe Macgillicuddy and Bob Burke entered the room. "We have been just taking a hair of the same dog," said Joe. "It was a pleasant party we had last night. Do you know what Bob and I have been talking of for the last half-hour?" We professed our inability to conjecture. "Why, then," continued Joe, "it was about the story that Harlow told last night." "The story begins with '_Humphries told me_,'" said Bob. "And," proceeded Joe, "for our lives we cannot recollect what it was." "Wonderful!" we all exclaimed. "How inscrutable are the movements of the human mind." And we proceeded to reflect on the frailty of our memories, moralising in a strain that would have done honour to Dr Johnson. "Perhaps," said I, "Tom Meggot may recollect it." Idle hope! dispersed to the winds almost as soon as it was formed. For the words had scarcely passed "the bulwark of my teeth," when Tom appeared, looking excessively bloodshot in the eye. On inquiry, it turned out that he, like the rest of us, remembered only the cabalistic words which introduced the tale, but of the tale itself, nothing. Tom had been educated at Edinburgh, and was strongly attached to what he calls _metapheesicks_; and, accordingly, after rubbing his forehead, he exclaimed-- "This is a psychological curiosity, which deserves to be developed. I happen to have half a sovereign about me" (an assertion which, I may remark in passing, excited considerable surprise in his audience), "and I'll ask Harlow to dine with me at the Rainbow. I'll get the story out of the Humpy rascal--and no mistake." We acquiesced in the propriety of this proceeding; and Antony Harrison, observing that he happened by chance to be disengaged, hooked himself on Tom, who seemed to have a sort of national antipathy to such a ceremony, with a talent and alacrity that proved him to be a veteran warrior, or what, in common parlance, is called an old soldier. Tom succeeded in getting Harlow to dinner, and Harrison succeeded in making him pay the bill, to the great relief of Meggot's half sovereign, and they parted at an early hour in the morning. The two Irishmen and myself were at Ginger's shortly after breakfast; we had been part occupied in tossing halfpence to decide which of us was to send out for ale, when--Harrison and Meggot appeared. There was conscious confusion written in their countenances. "Did Humpy Harlow tell you _that_ story?" we all exclaimed at once. "It cannot be denied that he did," said Meggot. "Precisely as the clock struck eleven, he commenced with '_Humphries told me._'" "Well--and what then?" "Why, there it is," said Antony Harrison, "may I be drummed out if I can recollect another word." "Nor I," said Meggot.