uccessful achievement, sir; there is a mysterious
shadowing forth of something in it which is very fine."

"You like it better than the 'Black Stone'?"

"Pooh! sir; the 'Black Stone,' if I may be allowed an image, is but
ordinary paving, while that 'Rose of Silence' of yours might strew the
path to Parnassus."

"And is it not strange, doctor," said Reddy, in a reproachful tone,
"that _them_ people should be insensible to that song, and leave the
room while I was singing it?"

"Too good for them, sir--above their comprehension."

"Besides, so rude!" said Reddy.

"Oh, my dear friend," said the doctor, "when you know more of the world,
you'll find out that an appeal from the lower house to the upper," and
he changed his hand from the region of his waistcoat to his head as he
spoke, "is most influential."

"True, doctor," said Reddy, with a smile; "and suppose _we_ go to
supper now."

"Wait a moment," said Growling, holding his button. "Did you ever try
your hand at an epic?"

"No, I can't say that I did."

"I wish you would."

"You flatter me, doctor; but don't you think we had better go to
supper?"

"Ha!" said the doctor, "your own House of Commons is sending up an
appeal--eh?"

"Decidedly, doctor."

"Then you see, my dear friend, you can't wonder at those poor inferior
beings hurrying off to indulge their gross appetites, when a man of
genius like you is not insensible to the same call. Never wonder again
at people leaving your song for supper, Master James," said the doctor,
resting his arm on Reddy, and sauntering from the room. "Never wonder
again at the triumph of supper over song, for the Swan of Avon himself
would have no chance against roast ducks."

Reddy smacked his lips at the word ducks, and the savoury odour of the
supper-room which they approached heightened his anticipation of an
onslaught on one of the aforesaid tempting birds; but, ah! when he
entered the room, skeletons of ducks there were, but nothing more; the
work of demolition had been in able hands, and the doctor's lachrymose
exclamation of "the devil a duck!" found a hollow echo under Reddy's
waistcoat. Round the room that deluded minstrel went, seeking what he
might devour, but his voyage of discovery for any hot fowl was
profitless; and Growling, in silent delight, witnessed his
disappointment.

"Come, sir," said the doctor, "there's plenty of punch left, however;
I'll take a glass with you, and drink success to your next