selecting his host according to the odour of the viands. It is of him
that the old 'Joe Miller' is told of the 'haunch of venison.' Invited to
dinner at one house, he _happens_ to glance down into the kitchen of the
next, and seeing a tempting haunch of venison on the spit, throws over
the inviter, and ingratiates himself with his neighbour, who ends by
asking him to stay to dinner. The fare, however, consisted of nothing
more luxurious than an Irish stew, and the disappointed guest was
informed that he had been 'too cunning by half,' inasmuch as the venison
belonged to his original inviter, and had been cooked in the house he
was in by kind permission, because the chimney of the owner's kitchen
smoked.

The same principle often actuated Theodore; and, indeed, there are few
stories which can be told of this characteristic of the great frolicker,
which have not been told a century of times.

For instance: two young men are strolling, towards 5 P.M., in the then
fashionable neighbourhood of Soho; the one is Terry, the actor--the
other, Hook, the actor, for surely he deserves the title. They pass a
house, and sniff the viands cooking underground. Hook quietly announces
his intention of dining _there_. He enters, is admitted and announced by
the servant, mingles with the company, and is quite at home before he is
perceived by the host. At last the _dénouement_ came; the dinner-giver
approached the stranger, and with great politeness asked his name.
'Smith' was, of course, the reply, and reverting to mistakes made by
servants in announcing, &c., 'Smith' hurried off into an amusing story,
to put his host in good humour. The conversation that followed is taken
from 'Ingoldsby':--

'But, really, my dear sir,' the host put in, 'I think the mistake on the