"I have seen him once, I think--the professor of mineralogy."

"Well, poor old Sir Charles, one of the most modest and retiring men in
existence, was standing the other night among the mob, in one of the
drawing-rooms, while a waltzing-party were figuring away, at which, with
that fondness for "la danse" that characterizes every German of any age,
he was looking with much interest, when my lady came tripping up, and the
following short dialogue ensued within my ear-shot:--"

"Ah, mon cher, Sir Charles, ravi de vous voir. But why are you not
dancing?"

"Ah, mi ladi, Je ne puis pas, c'est a dire, Ich kann es nicht; I am too
old; Ich bin--"

"Oh, you horrid man; I understand you perfectly. You hate ladies, that
is the real reason. You do--you know you do."

"Ah, my ladi, Gnaedige frau; glauben sie mir; I do loave de ladies; I do
adore de sex. Do you know, my ladi, when I was in Greenland I did keep
four womans."

"Oh, shocking, horrid, vile Sir Charles, how could you tell me such a
story? I shall die of it."

"Ah, mine Gott, mi ladi; sie irren sich, vous, vous trompez. You are
quite in mistake; it was only to row my boat!"

"I leave you to guess how my lady's taste for the broad-side of the