I digg him in the ribbs, or clap his padded old shoulders.

I call him 'Bareacres, my old brick,' and I see him wince.

It does my 'art good." It does Thackeray's heart good to pour himself out in indignation against some imaginary Bareacres.

He blows off his steam with such an eagerness that he forgets for a time, or nearly forgets, his cacography.

Then there are "Jeames on Time Bargings," "Jeames on the Gauge Question," "Mr.Jeames again." Of all our author's heroes Jeames is perhaps the most amusing.