And it is but justice to the memory of this punctilious veteran, to say that he would have made the same reply to any question which could, at that particular moment, have been put to him. CMXXXI.--EPIGRAM. (On a little member's versatility.) WHY little Neddy ---- yearns To _rat_, there is a reason strong, He needs be _everything by turns_, Who is by nature _nothing long_. CMXXXII.--LATE AND EARLY. THE regular routine of clerkly business ill suited the literary tastes and the wayward habits of Charles Lamb. Once, at the India House, a superior said to him, "I have remarked, Mr. Lamb, that you come very _late_ to the office."--"Yes, sir," replied the wit, "but you must remember that I go away _early_." The oddness of the excuse silenced the reprover. CMXXXIII.--FAIR PLAY. CURRAN, who was a very small man, having a dispute with a brother counsel (who was a very stout man), in which words ran high on both sides, called him out. The other, however, objected. "You are so little," said he, "that I might fire at you a dozen times without hitting, whereas, the chance is that you may shoot me at the first fire."--"To convince you," cried Curran, "I don't wish to take any advantage, you shall _chalk_ my size upon _your body_, and all hits out of the ring shall go for nothing." CMXXXIV.--SOMETHING LACKING. HOOK was walking one day with a friend, when the latter, pointing out on a dead wall an incomplete inscription, running, "WARREN'S B----," was puzzled at the moment for the want of the context. "'Tis _lacking_ that should follow," observed Hook, in explanation. CMXXXV.--THE HONEST MAN'S LITANY. FROM a wife of small fortune, but yet very proud, Who values herself on her family's blood: Who seldom talks sense, but for ever is loud, _Libera me!_ From living i' th' parish that has an old kirk, Where the parson would rule like a Jew or a Turk, And keep a poor curate to do all his work, _Libera me!_ From a justice of peace who forgives no offence, But construes the law in its most rigid sense, And still to bind over will find some pretence, _Libera me!_ From dealing with great men and taking their word, From waiting whole mornings to speak with my lord, Who puts off his payments, and puts on his sword, _Libera me!_ From Black-coats, who never the Gospel yet taught, From Red-coats, who never a battle yet fought, From Turn-coats, whose inside and outside are naught, _Libera me!_ CMXXXVI.--THREE DEGREES OF COMPARISON.