"I won't understand nothing nor nobody," answered the reverend gentleman, swaying backwards and forwards in his chair. "Leave me to commune with myself upon the vanities of this wicked world, and--and--drink my punch in quiet." "Humbug!" exclaimed the literary man, swallowing his resentment and the remainder of his punch simultaneously. "Ah!" said the bookseller, after a pause; "nothing now succeeds unless it's in the comic line. We have comic Latin grammars, and comic Greek grammars; indeed, I don't know but what English grammar, too, is a comedy altogether. All our tragedies are made into comedies by the way they are performed; and no work sells without comic illustrations to it. I have brought out several new comic works, which have been very successful. For instance, '_The Comic Wealth of Nations_;' '_The Comic Parliamentary Speeches_;' '_The Comic Report of the Poor-Law Commissioners_,' with an Appendix containing the '_Comic Dietary Scale_;' and the '_Comic Distresses of the Industrious Population_.' I even propose to bring out a '_Comic Whole Duty of Man_.' All these books sell well: they do admirably for the nurseries of the children of the aristocracy. In fact they are as good as manuals and text-books." "This rage for the comic is most unexpressedly remarkable," observed the butler. "It is indeed!" ejaculated Snoggles; and, in order to illustrate the truth of the statement, he jerked a piece of lemon-peel very cleverly into the dissenting parson's left eye. "That's right--stone me to death!" murmured the reverend gentleman. "My name is Stephen--and it is all for righteousness' sake! I know I'm a chosen vessel, and may become a martyr. My name is Stephen, I tell you--Stephen Drum--um--ummer!" He then began an eulogium upon meekness and resignation under injuries, and reiterated his conviction that he was a chosen vessel; but, becoming suddenly excited by a horse-laugh which fell upon his ear, he forgot all about the chosen vessel, and lifted another very savagely from the table. In a word, he seized a pewter pot in his hand, and would have hurled it at Mr. Snoggles' head, had not Mr. Whittingham stopped the dangerous missile in time, and pacified the reverend gentleman by calling for more punch. "We must certainly have those two men bound over to keep the peace," said Mac Chizzle; "two sureties in fifty, and themselves in a hundred, each." "I shall dress the whole scene up for one of the _Monthlies_," observed Mr. Guffins. "If you do, you'll be indictable for libel," said Mac Chizzle. "The greater the truth, the greater the libel." In the meanwhile Suggett and his friend Snoggles drew close to each other, and entered into conversation. "It must be about three years since I saw you last," said the latter. "Three year, come January," observed Suggett. "Ah! I've seed some strange wicissitudes in the interval," continued Snoggles. "I went abroad as coachman, with a dashing young chap of the name of Winchester--"