“ You will accord me your pardon, my dear lord, but I hold—”
“ Nay, my good Sir John, I trust to your intelligence to be excused if I say—”
“ One word, my Lord Chatterino, I pray you, in order that—”
“ A thousand, very cheerfully, Sir John, but—”
“ My Lord Chatterino!”
“ Sir John Goldencalf!”
Hereupon we both began talking at the same time, the noble young monikin gradually narrowing down the direction of his observations to the single person of Mrs. Vigilance Lynx, who, I afterwards had occasion to know, was an excellent listener; and I, in my turn, after wandering from eye to eye, settled down into a sort of oration that was especially addressed to the understanding of Captain Noah Poke. My auditor contrived to get one ear entirely clear of the bison's skin, and nodded
