I plied them well with wine; and being a privileged character, followed the unpopular dishes round the table, and whispered to the company confidentially, "Please to change your mind and try it; for I know it will do you good." Nine times out of ten they changed their minds--out of regard for their old original Betteredge, they were pleased to say--but all to no purpose.
There were gaps of silence in the talk, as the dinner got on, that made me feel personally uncomfortable.

When they did use their tongues again, they used them innocently, in the most unfortunate manner and to the worst possible purpose.

Mr.Candy, the doctor, for instance, said more unlucky things than I ever knew him to say before.

Take one sample of the way in which he went on, and you will understand what I had to put up with at the sideboard, officiating as I was in the character of a man who had the prosperity of the festival at heart.
One of our ladies present at dinner was worthy Mrs.Threadgall, widow of the late Professor of that name.

Talking of her deceased husband perpetually, this good lady never mentioned to strangers that he WAS deceased.