The first _morceau ragoutant_ that reached him was Colonel B.'s account of what had taken place at Colonel C.'s public breakfast some four or five mornings before. Colonel C. was then the Commissioner for Mysore. While at breakfast, he received Lord Elphinstone's answer to an invitation requesting him and his friend, Lord Cardigan, to spend some time at Bangalore, and during their stay to give him the pleasure of being their host. The invitation had been accepted, and accordingly Colonel C. announced that the two noble lords would shortly be at Bangalore. There was a large party at the breakfast, among whom was Captain A., who was one of the Commission. As soon as this officer, whose intrinsic worth was not hidden by French, or, indeed, by any other kind of polish, heard the announcement, he broke out thus: 'Eh, sirs, twa lurds--twa lurds! What'll I do, how'll I boo?' a sally which occasioned no little merriment amongst those who heard it, and still more at the mess-table after the Colonel's recital, who followed it up by such a string of jokes and puns and telling repartees, that an old Bengal civilian, whose name was Potts, and who was the Colonel's _vis-à-vis_, appeared thoroughly bewildered. He never uttered a word, but sat looking from one to the other with his mouth wide open, drinking in, as it seemed, the stream of wit, the like of which he had never perhaps in his whole life heard before. The old gentleman's behaviour afforded Colonel B. a good deal of quiet amusement. Unnoticed, he made his friends aware of what had attracted his attention, and then, as soon as he saw that they were observing, he remarked to his opposite: 'Mr. Potts, you're quite chatty,'[2] which, it is needless to say, set the table off again.