piece of furniture to its proper use.

"How do you like being here?" I asked.

He said that he enjoyed it. The only blot on his pleasure was the fear that
the Abbey might fall on him, and he therefore hoped that _The Times'_ fund
was progressing by leaps and bounds.

His immediate neighbours, on the contrary, exhibited no serenity whatever,
and I found Canning and Palmerston shivering with apprehension in their
frockcoats. The worst of it was that I could say nothing to reassure them.

Here and there, however, a desire for locomotion was expressed. Dr.
Johnson, in the enclosure behind St. Clement Danes, is very restive. I
asked him if he would object to removal. "Sir," said the Little
Lexicographer (as his sculptor has made him), "I should derive satisfaction
from it. A man cannot be considered as enviable who spends all his time in
the contemplation, from an unvacatable position, of a street to the
perambulation of which he devoted many of his happiest hours."

I ventured to agree.

"Nor," continued the sage, "is it a source of contentment to a man of
integrity to observe an unceasing procession of Americans on their way to
partake of pudding in a hostelry that has made its name and prosperity out
of a mythical association with himself and be unable to correct the error."

"Are you in general in favour of statuary?" I made bold to ask.

"Painting," said he, "consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect;