The things we do!

"'Oh, I must have those verses in my album,' cries one of the young
ladies. 'Did you compose them, Colonel Newcome?' But Gandish, you see, is
never thinking about any works but his own, and goes on, 'Study of my
eldest daughter, exhibited 1816.'
"'No, pa, not '16,' cries Miss Gandish. She don't look like a chicken, I
can tell you.
"'Admired,' Gandish goes on, never heeding her,--'I can show you what the
papers said of it at the time--Morning Chronicle and Examiner--spoke most
ighly of it. My son as an infant Ercules, stranglin the serpent over the
piano. Fust conception of my picture of 'Non Hangli said Hangeli.''
"'For which I can guess who were the angels that sat,' says father. Upon
my word, that old governor! He is a little too strong. But Mr. Gandish
listened no more to him than to Mr. Smee, and went on, buttering himself
all over, as I have read the Hottentots do. 'Myself at thirty-three years
of age!' says he, pointing to a portrait of a gentleman in leather
breeches and mahogany boots; 'I could have been a portrait-painter, Mr.


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