amusement in my society. During the few days I sat at his table, I
entertained his diplomatic guests with cracking nuts, extracting the
kernels, peeling oranges, talking broad Scotch and Parisian French,
chanting the "Gloria," dancing "Gai Coco," and, in fact, exhibiting all
my accomplishments. I was, however, soon sent to the secretary's office
to be taught a new jargon, and to be subjected to tricks from the
underlings of the embassy.

Here I picked up but little, for there was but little to pick up.
I learned, however, to call for "Red tape and sealing-wax"--to cry
"What a bore!" "Did you ever see such a quiz?"--to call "Lord Charles,"
"Mr. Henry," and pronounce "good for nothing"--a remark applied by the
young men to the pens, which they flung away by hundreds, and which the
servants picked up and sold, with other perquisites of office incidental
to their calling. Whenever I applied these acquisitions with effect, it
was always attributed to chance; but I was so tormented and persecuted
by Lord Charles and Mr. Henry, who being unpaid _attachés_, had
nothing to do, and helped each other to do it, that I took every
opportunity to annoy them. One day, when the ante-room was filled with
young officers of the British frigate, one of the boobies, pointing to
Lord Charles, called to me, "Poll, who is that?" I answered, "Red tape
and sealing-wax;" and raised a general shout at the expense of the
little diplomatic pedant. An Irish midshipman present, a Mr. O'Gallagher,
pointing to Mr. Henry, asked me, "Who is that, Poll?" "Good for
nothing," I replied; and Mr. Henry flew at me in a rage, swore I had
been taught to insult him, and that he would wring my neck off. This he
would have done but for the protection of the chaplain, to whose breast
I flew, and who carried me away to his own room. In a few days I was
consigned to Mr. O'Gallagher, the midshipman, as a present to the
chaplain's patroness, a lady of high rank and celebrated sanctity in