Mr. Fox at St. Ann's Hill was, for the last years of his life, in the
habit (never interfered with by his friends) of dosing for a few minutes
after dinner; and it was on this occasion, unconsciously yielding to the
influence of custom, I perceived that Mr. Garrow, who was the chief
talker (Parr was in his smoking orgasm,) began to feel embarrassed at
Mr. Fox's non-attention; and I, therefore, made signs to Mr. Fox, by
wiping my fingers to my eyes, and looking expressively at Garrow. Mr.
Fox, the most _truly_ polite man in the world, immediately endeavoured
to rouse himself--but in vain; Nature would have her way. Garrow soon
saw the struggle, and adroitly feigned sleep himself. Mr. Fox was
regenerated in ten minutes--apologized--and made the evening
delightful--_Senatorial Reminiscenses_.--_The Inspector_.
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