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"Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress of 'High Life, 'Almack's, and other fashionable novels." "Fiddlestick's end!" says Doctor Larner; "don't be blushing and pretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's you yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very beginning."
Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, and mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London to London, my boy, and now see! Look again at me friend Bullwig.
At the beginning Charley stumbled, and falling in the snow could not get upon his feet without Toby's assistance; but in a little while he discovered that he could swing along at a good pace, and Toby pronounced him an "easy larner." "I'm thinkin' Dad's at Black River tilt yet," said Toby when the snowshoe lesson was finished and they had returned to their fire.
"Hwhat!" says Larner; "and where's the Litherary Chran?" I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle-cabbitch. "Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, "will you, in the first place, drink a glass of wine?" I boughed agin. "And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?" "Why, your grace," says I, "I know my place, and ain't above kitchin wines.
"Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, and the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positive study to compwehend it." "Yes, faith," says Larner; "the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a brrogue.
In this he has the help of his wife, who was Miss Ella Brainerd, of Springfield, 111, M. Gaston de Levai, a Belgian gentleman, and Miss Caroline S. Larner, who was formerly a secretary in the State Department, and who, when the war started, was on a vacation in Belgium. She applied to Whitlock to aid her to return home; instead, much to her delight, he made her one of the legation staff.
"DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!" says I. "DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!" says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, on the fust landing-place. "DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!" says the groom of the chambers, who pretends to be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, the other chap came; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice: "Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig."
"Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk to a footman, sure? Is it gintale?" "To say the least of it," says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, and indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way pwofitable." But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and everybody excep them was for having up poor me.
"Name! a! now, you thief o' the wurrld," says he, "do you pretind nat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa no, I mane the Litherary Chran psha! bluthanowns! say it's DOCTHOR DIOCLESIAN LARNER I think he'll know me now ay, Nid?" But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm of the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So the little genlmn went upstares alone.
He IS a gentleman, to be sure, and bad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherary labor? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET." "A BARNET, Doctor!" says I; "you don't mean to say they're going to make him a barnet!" "As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Larner.
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