is a goose a first-rate bird. But I'll tell you this about the
goose;--you'll find his natural flavour disappointing, without stuffing.

Perhaps I am soured by not being popular? But suppose I AM popular.
Suppose my works never fail to attract. Suppose that, whether they are
exhibited by natural light or by artificial, they invariably draw the
public. Then no doubt they are preserved in some Collection? No, they
are not; they are not preserved in any Collection. Copyright? No, nor
yet copyright. Anyhow they must be somewhere? Wrong again, for they are
often nowhere.

Says you, "At all events, you are in a moody state of mind, my friend."
My answer is, I have described myself as a public character with a blight
upon him--which fully accounts for the curdling of the milk in _that_
cocoa-nut.

Those that are acquainted with London are aware of a locality on the
Surrey side of the river Thames, called the Obelisk, or, more generally,
the Obstacle. Those that are not acquainted with London will also be
aware of it, now that I have named it. My lodging is not far from that
locality. I am a young man of that easy disposition, that I lie abed
till it's absolutely necessary to get up and earn something, and then I
lie abed again till I have spent it.

It was on an occasion when I had had to turn to with a view to victuals,
that I found myself walking along the Waterloo Road, one evening after
dark, accompanied by an acquaintance and fellow-lodger in the gas-fitting
way of life. He is very good company, having worked at the theatres,
and, indeed, he has a theatrical turn himself, and wishes to be brought
out in the character of Othello; but whether on account of his regular