expedient. "Trot him out into the cornfield, introduce him to the
scarecrow, and let him talk to that," says he, grinning up into the
visitor's face, who grinned down at him, no doubt thinking what a
wonderfully charming boy he was! If he were as blind as he is deaf, he
might have been disposed of very comfortably in some such ingenious
way;--the scarecrow, or any other lay figure, might have served to
engage him in one of his immortal monologues. As it was, the suggestion
bore fruit later, as you will see.

While we were consulting--keeping up our scattering fire of small-arms
under the old talker's heavy guns--our parish minister called,--old
Doctor Wortleby, for whom we have a great liking and respect. Of course
we had to introduce him to Uncle Popworth,--for they met face to face;
and of course Uncle Popworth fastened at once upon the brother
clergyman. Being my guest, Wortleby could do no less than listen to
Popworth, who is my uncle. He listened with interest and sympathy for
the first half-hour; and then continued listening for another half-hour,
after his interest and sympathy were exhausted. Then, attempting to go,
he got his hat, and sat with it in his hand half an hour longer. Then he
stood half an hour on his poor old gouty feet, desperately edging toward
the door.

"Ah, certainly," says he, with a weary smile, repeatedly endeavoring to
break the spell that bound him. "I shall be most happy to hear the
conclusion of your remarks at some future time" (even ministers can lie
out of politeness); "but just now--"

"One word more, and I am done," cries my Uncle Popworth, for the
fiftieth time; and Wortleby, in despair, sat down again.