your side with words softer than butter, but having war in his heart; he
"always thought that Sam Smith was such a friend of yours, and" (hardly
waiting for your "So he is") "was surprised and rather disgusted by his
remarks at the Club last Thursday." And then he tells you something
which, for a moment, and until principle prevails over passion, suggests
the removal by violence of several of Sam's teeth, and he leaves you
distressed and distrustful, until you discover, as you most probably
will, that there has been cruel misrepresentation. Ah, if poor
Jeannette's desire were realised, and they who make the quarrels were
the only men to fight, how nice it would be to sit upon an eminence and
watch the Battle of the Blabs!

There was a battle once on a small scale, the only rational duel ever
fought, in which a brace of Blabs were sweetly discomfited. They had
succeeded in separating "very friends," and had arranged a hostile
meeting; but, through the intervention of better men, and without their
cognisance, the principals entered into explanation, and, finding that
they had been misled, mutually agreed to fire at the seconds, who had
made the mischief. One Blab received a bullet in the calf of his leg,
and the other a _ping_ close to his whiskers; and then the combatants
said that their honour was satisfied, and the party broke up.

Some years ago there lived in our village an individual who was known to
us as _Brawnging_ Bill. Does not the epithet describe the man? As you
pronounce it, does not William's photograph present itself to your
mental eye? A large, obese, idle _hulk_ of a man (fine old Saxon word,
that _hulc_!) lounging about with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in
his mouth; a man who talks at the top of his voice, and laughs the loud
laugh which tells the vacant mind, and lies with such volubility that
you would think truth was a fool. Eloquent, didactic, imperious was he