Crimean War, John Reynolds, a very energetic citizen,
was perpetually raising the question about the dangerous practice of
driving outside cars from the side instead of the box--in which he was
undoubtedly right.

When he went to the theatre, a gallery boy shouted:--

'Three cheers for Alderman John Reynolds the hero of Kars.'

The Lord Mayor of the period who sat beside him was a tallow chandler,
and the same spokesman shouted out:--

'Three cheers for his grease the Lord Mayor just back from the races at
Tallagh.'

That sort of thing seems to be particularly indigenous, the only
parallel being when undergraduates or medical students get gathered
together.

The eloquence of Irish members in the House of Commons has really
nothing to do with my reminiscences, but I remember one occasion when it
was uncommonly well excelled by a stolid Englishman.

Fergus O'Connor--an Irishman, as his name betrays--was an ardent
Chartist, and before the Reform Bill was introduced he said in the House
that he had been accused of being a personal enemy of King William's.
This was quite untrue, for if there were only good laws he did not care
if the devil were King of England.

Sir Robert Peel replied:--

'When the honourable member is gratified by seeing the sovereign of his
choice on the throne of these realms, I hope he will enjoy, and I am
sure he will deserve, the confidence of the Crown.'

Whilst I am anecdotal, perhaps I had better say something about books
into which my stories have been pressed. I was always given to telling
tales, but of course my great time was when Lord Morris and I would sit
trying to cap one another. If he were ever too idle to remember an
anecdote of his own, he would reel off one of mine: as for his own fund
of stories and humour ever approaching exhaustion, that was not to be
thought of. He was far and away the wittiest man I ever met, and if I do
not quote one of his tales on this page it is because no single sample
can show the superb richness of his vintage, and more than one of his
brand will be found scattered in the present volume.

I gave a good many anecdotes to my dear old friend Mr. W.R. Le
Fanu--cheeriest of fishermen, kindest of jolly good fellows--for his
garrulous book. He observes in his preface that he makes his first
attempt at writing in his eight-and-seventieth year. I am nearly
twenty-four months his senior when thus far on the road of these
reminiscences. I also echo anoth