QUEEN. I don't think Lord Beaconsfield is a sportsman.

J.B. I know that, Ma'am, well enough. But there's many who are not
sportsmen that think they've got to do it--when they come north of the
Tweed.

QUEEN. Lord Beaconsfield will not shoot, I'm sure. You remember him,
Brown, being here before?

J.B. Eh! Many years ago, that was; he was no but Mr. Disraeli then. But he
was the real thing, Ma'am: oh, a nice gentleman.

QUEEN. He is always very nice to me.

J.B. I remember now, when he first came, he put a tip into me hand. And
when I let him know the liberty he had taken, "Well, Mr. Brown," he said,
"I've made a mistake, but I don't take it back again!"

QUEEN. Very nice and sensible.

J.B. And indeed it was, Ma'am. Many a man would never have had the wit to
leave well alone by just apologising for it. But there was an
understandingness about him, that often you don't find. After that he
always talked to me like an equal-just like yourself might do. But Lord,
Ma'am, his ignorance, it was surprising!

QUEEN. Most extraordinary you should think that, Brown!

J.B. Ah! You haven't talked to him as I have, Ma'am: only about politics,
and poetry, and things like that, where, maybe, he knows a bit more than I