Mr. Merewether, Q.C., got into the train one morning with a whole batch
of briefs and a talkative companion. He wanted to go through his briefs,
but his companion would not let him work. He tried silence, he tried
grunting, he tried sarcasm. At length, when they came to Hanwell, the
gossip hit upon the unfortunate remark, “How well the asylum looks from
the railway!” “Pray, sir,” replied Mr. Merewether, “how does the railway
look from the asylum?” The man was silent.