mine, in whom I had much confidence--I always left him with my day's
correspondence ready to be committed to paper. In the course of the
dinner a stupid _garçon_, handing the ice round, dropped a small piece
down the back of the neck of the DOGE of VENICE. With great presence
of mind Baron MUNCHAUSEN seized the poker (which fortunately happened
to be in the fire), and, with inimitable dexterity, passed the red-hot
brand between the DOGE's shirt-collar and his neck, and, deftly
touching the piece of ice, melted it. It was an awkward moment. The
canned lobster was just served, but no one thought of eating it. The
CON of CRIM TARTARY turning to Baron MAC HINERY, said,--

"You, my Lord, who are disinterested in this matter, tell us what you
think of it."

"I think," replied the Baron, with admirable _sangfroid_, "his
Highness the DOGE would have felt better if the ice had been warmer,
and the poker cooler."

Everybody laughed. The DOGE and Baron MUNCHAUSEN shook hands, and the
dinner ended gaily.

* * * * *

RYMOND, writing _lui-même_ with too infrequent pen, makes pathetic
reference to the death of "one of the largest and best known purveyors
of Rhine wine, with whom I have had business relations and personal
intercourse for nearly thirty years." There is, we need hardly say,
no basis for the insinuation thrown out by HENED that the business
relations referred to were of the commission order sometimes
established between purveyors of Rhine and other wines and gentlemen