Linley's journey, and seeing that he himself was
unconscious of it, politely reminded him that one of his horse's shoes
had just come off. "Thank you, madam," replied Linley; "will you then
have the goodness to put it on for me?"
Linley one day received a card to dine with the late archbishop of
Canterbury, who was then bishop of Norwich. Careless into what hole or
corner he threw his invitations, he soon lost sight of the card, and
forgot it altogether. A year revolved, when, on wiping the dust from
some papers he had stuck on the glass over the chimney, the bishop's
invitation for a certain day in the month (he did not think of the year
one instant,) stared him full in the face, and taking it for granted
that it was a recent one, he dressed himself on the appointed day, and
proceeded to the palace. But his diocesan was not in London, a
circumstance of which, though a matter of some notoriety to the clergy
of the diocese, he was quite unconscious; and he returned dinnerless
home.
* * * * *
SENTIMENT AND APPETITE.
We remember an amiable enthusiast, a worshiper of nature after the
manner of Rousseau, who, being melted into feelings of universal
philanthropy by the softness and serenity of a spring morning, resolved,
that for that day, at least, no injured animal should pollute his board;
and having recorded his vow, walked six miles to gain a hamlet, famous
for fish dinners, where, without an idea of breaking his sentimental
engagement, he regaled himself on a small matter of crimped cod and
oyster sauce--Q.
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