your head--of course. Can't you hear it tick? No: you can hear
nothing to-night.

"And now, Mr. Caudle, I should like to know whose hat you've brought
home? You went out with a beaver worth three-and-twenty shillings--
the second time you've worn it--and you bring home a thing that no
Jew in his senses would give me fivepence for. I couldn't even get a
pot of primroses--and you know I always turn your old hats into
roots--not a pot of primroses for it. I'm certain of it now--I've
often thought it--but now I'm sure that some people dine out only to
change their hats.

"WHERE'S YOUR WATCH?

"Caudle, you're bringing me to an early grave!"


WE HOPE THAT CAUDLE WAS PENITENT FOR HIS CONDUCT; INDEED, THERE IS,
WE THINK, EVIDENCE THAT HE WAS SO: FOR TO THIS LECTURE HE HAS
APPENDED NO COMMENT. THE MAN HAD NOT THE FACE TO DO IT.



LECTURE XXI--MR. CAUDLE HAS NOT ACTED "LIKE A HUSBAND" AT THE WEDDING
DINNER



"Ah, me! It's no use wishing--none at all: but I do wish that
yesterday fourteen years could come back again. Little did I think,