old folks in the audience, I dare say, indulged in reflections of their
own. There was one joke--I utterly forget it--but it began with Merryman
saying what he had for dinner. He had mutton for dinner, at one o'clock,
after which "he had to COME TO BUSINESS." And then came the point.
Walter Juvenis, Esq., Rev. Doctor Birch's, Market Rodborough, if you
read this, will you please send me a line, and let me know what was
the joke Mr. Merryman made about having his dinner? YOU remember
well enough. But do I want to know? Suppose a boy takes a favorite,
long-cherished lump of cake out of his pocket, and offers you a bite?
Merci! The fact is, I DON'T care much about knowing that joke of Mr.
Merryman's.

But whilst he was talking about his dinner, and his mutton, and his
landlord, and his business, I felt a great interest about Mr. M. in
private life--about his wife, lodgings, earnings, and general history,
and I dare say was forming a picture of those in my mind--wife cooking
the mutton: children waiting for it; Merryman in his plain clothes, and
so forth; during which contemplation the joke was uttered and laughed
at, and Mr. M., resuming his professional duties, was tumbling over
head and heels. Do not suppose I am going, sicut est mos, to indulge in
moralities about buffoons, paint, motley, and mountebanking. Nay, Prime
Ministers rehearse their jokes; Opposition leaders prepare and polish
them; Tabernacle preachers must arrange them in their minds before they
utter them. All I mean is, that I would like to know any one of these
performers thoroughly, and out of his uniform: that preacher, and why
in his travels this and that point struck him; wherein lies his power of
pathos, humor, eloquence;--that Minister of State, and what moves him,
and how his private heart is working;--I would only say that, at a
certain time of life certain things cease to interest: but about SOME
things when we cease to care, what will be the use of life, sight,