June, last year.

We met at Sir George Golloper's. We were placed, he on the right, your
humble servant on the left of the admirable Lady G.. Peas formed part of
the banquet--ducks and green peas. I trembled as I saw Marrowfat helped,
and turned away sickening, lest I should behold the weapon darting down
his horrid jaws.

What was my astonishment, what my delight, when I saw him use his fork
like any other Christian! He did not administer the cold steel once. Old
times rushed back upon me--the remembrance of old services--his rescuing
me from the brigands--his gallant conduct in the affair with the
Countess Dei Spinachi--his lending me the 1,700L. I almost burst into
tears with joy--my voice trembled with emotion. 'George, my boy!' I
exclaimed, 'George Marrowfat, my dear fellow! a glass of wine!'

Blushing--deeply moved--almost as tremulous as I was myself, George
answered, 'FRANK, SHALL IT BE HOCK OR MADEIRA? I could have hugged
him to my heart but for the presence of the company. Little did Lady
Golloper know what was the cause of the emotion which sent the duckling
I was carving into her ladyship's pink satin lap. The most good-natured
of women pardoned the error, and the butler removed the bird.

We have been the closest friends over since, nor, of course, has George
repeated his odious habit. He acquired it at a country school, where
they cultivated peas and only used two-pronged forks, and it was only
by living on the Continent where the usage of the four-prong is general,
that he lost the horrible custom.

In this point--and in this only--I confess myself a member of the