at his own brilliancy.
    Each of his companions became in turn his butt. Malone had a stock of jokes
at their service, which he was accustomed to serve out regularly on convivial
occasions like the present, seldom varying his wit; for which, indeed, there was
no necessity, as he never appeared to consider himself monotonous, and did not
at all care what others thought. Mr. Donne, he favoured with hints about his
extreme meagreness, allusions to his turned-up nose, cutting sarcasms on a
certain threadbare chocolate surtout, which that gentleman was accustomed to
sport whenever it rained, or seemed likely to rain, and criticisms on a choice
set of cockney phrases, and modes of pronunciation, Mr. Donne's own property,
and certainly deserving of remark for the elegance and finish they communicated
to his style.
    Mr. Sweeting was bantered about his stature - he was a little man, a mere
boy in height and breadth compared with the athletic Malone - rallied on his
musical accomplishments - he played the flute and sang hymns like a seraph (some
young ladies of his parish thought), sneered at as the lady's pet, teased about
his mamma and sisters; for whom poor Mr. Sweeting had some lingering regard, and
of whom he was foolish enough now and then to speak in the presence of the
priestly Paddy, from whose anatomy the bowels of natural affection had somehow
been omitted.
    The victims met these attacks each in his own way: Mr. Donne with a stilted
self-complacency, and half-sullen phlegm, the sole props of his otherwise
somewhat rickety dignity; Mr. Sweeting, with the indifference of a light, easy
disposition, which never professed to have any dignity to maintain.
    When Malone's raillery became rather too offensive, which it soon did, they
joined in an attempt to turn the tables on him, by asking him how many boys had
shouted »Irish Peter!« after him, as he came along the road that day (Malone's
name was Peter - the Rev. Peter Augustus Malone); requesting to be informed
whether it was the mode in Ireland for clergymen to carry loaded pistols in
their pockets, and a shillelagh in their hands, when they made pastoral visits;
inquiring the signification of such words, as vele, firrum, hellum, storrum (so
Mr. Malone invariably pronounced veil, firm, helm, storm), and employing such
other methods of retaliation as the innate refinement of their minds suggested.
    This, of course, would not do. Malone, being neither good-natured nor