and those visionary bearers of "sticks and
staves" who used formerly to break into "that
is to say three hundred turbaries" which
they never saw, and which never existed, all to
the great damage of nobody. He was especially
pathetic upon the subject of the wicked laws
recently enacted which permit plaintiffs and
defendants to be heard, personally, in cases
about which no one can by any possibility
besides themselves know anything worth
hearing. "As to the profession, sir," he said,
"it's gone to the dogs; the county courts
have done that; would you believe it—we
haven't issued a write for seven weeks?" I
was on the point of thanking heaven that
this desirable consummation had been
attained—but, remembering this man's
prejudice, that he had been fed on parchment
and weaned on brief-paper, that he had
been articled and admitted, and had paid
heavy stamp duties, that he was right
in his vocation and generation, I forebore to
exult over the decline of writs, and actually
condoled with him. For prejudice is in many
cases only tenacity of possession of a thing
or an idea, and resentment at the prospect of
deprivation. The eel has a prejudice against
being skinned, and the lobster against being
boiled, although the cook knows that both
processes must absolutely be gone through for
the proper making of the eel pie and the
lobster salad. If I were a flea, I would, I am
sure, protest against being cracked. If I were
a Clerk of the Petty Bag, or one of the Six
Clerks or one of the Broad Bent Clerks of the
Pipe Office (supposing these mysterious
functionaries not yet to have been pensioned off),
I should, I am certain, talk loudly about my
vested rights, our glorious consitution, and
the destructive tendencies of political
incendiaries. You, who are nobly prejudiced
against corruption, wait until you yourselves
are corrupted, and then see how staunchly
prejudiced you will be in corruption's favour.

But a little while ago, I thought I had
never known so prejudiced an individual
as Colonel Grunpeck of Kentucky. He was
ordinarily addressed as Colonel, not so much
upon the supposition that he had ever
held a military command, as because there
was a great doubt and mystery as to what he
was or had been: and because in American
circles you can't be far wrong in calling a
man Colonel. It is a safe appellation. If
you should happen to be among Americans
with a stranger who wears a white neckcloth
you may call him Doctor. You can't be very
much on the wrong side of the hedge in
doing so, for the prefix, Doctor, will serve for
Divinity, Laws, Medicine, Music or
Philosophy. In other cases (your man being over
twenty) dub him Colonel immediately.

I had the advantage of becoming acquainted
with Colonel Grunpeck (aged, I imagine,
about threescore) at Madam Busque's pleasant
sanctum, which I have had the honour
of describing in these pages. The Colonel
first attracted my attention by a stern
declaration that he dined at one o'clock every day.
We dined at six; and during our meal he
was wont to sit aloof, chewing, and occasionally
indulging us with polite conversation. I
gathered from Florence, Madame Busque's
neat-handed Phillis, that the Colonel's staple
meal was salt codfish and potatoes, washed
down by a glass of kirsch, mingled with
cayenne pepper, and that he professed and
practised the uttermost contempt and
disregard for French cookery and French wines.
These circumstances, coupled with the statement
that he had inhabited Paris for a
considerable number of years, were quite enough
to convince me that the Colonel was no
ordinary man. When on a subsequent occasion
he informed us that he had visited and had
been resident in Germany, Italy, and Russia,
and France inclusive, and that he could not
speak one word of the languages of those
countries, I began to recognise in Colonel Grunpeck
a prodigy of prejudice. And he really did
become prodigious in time. He treated with scorn
and derision a modest statement of mine that
there was a spirituous liquor called Whiskey
manufactured in Ireland, which was a
favourite potation of the inhabitants of that
country; and that there was also some whiskey
of a smoky flavour made in Scotland, which was
said to be worth drinking. The only whiskey
was in Kentucky,—nay even, and only in a
small portion of that state,—for he himself, if I
remember correctly, possessed the only half-
dozen hogsheads. Likewise the only rice, the
only tobacco, the only land, and, specially,
the only pigs. The best niggers, also, he, of
course, owned, though, I am bound to confess,
that he did not maintain them to be the only
ones. His religious prejudices it is neither
my province nor any man's to take exception
to: those prejudices we must all take off our
hats to, and pass by reverentially; but I
may just mention that he quoted Moses and
Aaron to prove that all negro babies were
born with tails, and that with reference to
miracles he declared that he "never could
believe that Jonah swallowed that thar
whale," and when I presumed mildly to hint
that the swallowing was done by the other
party, sternly rebuked and put me down. His
political prejudices were immense. He quite
repudiated Washington, Jefferson, Franklin,
Adams, Jackson, Webster, and Taylor. The
god of his political idolatry was one Amos
Grix, of whose antecedents or culmination he
did not condescend to inform us, but who
chawed up the speaker of some local legislature
dreadful bright on some occasion not stated.
Colonel Grunpeck's hatred and contempt for
this country and its inhabitant Britishers
were something dreadful. He took the
British lion; he twisted that animal's tail,
and tied knots in it; he tore out the hair of
his mane; he cut off his claws; he skinned
him alive; he muzzled him; he made him
stand on his hind legs and beg; he whipped