"'Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown!'"

"Ha, ha! Excellent!" cried Miss Trafford, who was always the first in at
the death of a pun. "Yes, indeed they did: poor old Lord Belton, with his
rheumatism; and that immense General Grant, with his asthma; together
with three 'single men,' and myself, were safely conveyed to that asylum
for the destitute."

"Ah! Grant, Grant!" said Lord Vincent, eagerly, who saw another
opportunity of whipping in a pun. "He slept there also the same night I
did; and when I saw his unwieldy person waddling out of the door the next
morning, I said to Temple, 'Well, that's the largest Grant I ever saw
from the Crown.'" [Note: It was from Mr. J. Smith that Lord Vincent
purloined this pun.]

"Very good," said Wormwood, gravely. "I declare, Vincent, you are growing
quite witty. Do you remember Jekyl? Poor fellow, what a really good
punster he was--not agreeable though--particularly at dinner--no punsters
are. Mr. Davison, what is that dish next to you?"

Mr. Davison was a great gourmand: "Salmi de perdreaux aux truffes,"
replied the political economist.

"Truffles!" said Wormwood, "have you been eating any?"

"Yes," said Davison, with unusual energy, "and they are the best I have
tasted for a long time."

"Very likely," said Wormwood, with a dejected air. "I am particularly
fond of them, but I dare not touch one--truffles are so very apoplectic--