applicants, and made precis for the king, which he was pleased to approve, as he told Lord Castleton himself, of which, being one of the best judges in his own dominions, I was not a little proud.

In the afternoon I rode in the park, amid a gay and increasing throng of acquaintance of both sexes; many of them rising young men, some actually risen and the women of the most finished tournure.

In these parties Lady Hungerford and Granville, who constantly attended her, were conspicuous, and by the consequence which their protection gave me, made me appear in the world any thing but a decayed gentleman.

I

As to themselves, the thing seemed decided in public opinion, and they were given without reserve to each other. was much catechized upon it; and though I could not answer, because I knew nothing, it was taken as a proof of discretion, auguring a prudence which would in the end assuredly lead to something great.

The opportunities of knowing the world were thus multiplied, and what amused me was, to observe the deference shewn me by many whom I thought great men at Oxford, because of their horses and large expenditure compared with my own (though perhaps the whole of their fortune), but who in those days stood studiously aloof from such little men as I.

These men formed a class which an observer of the world would do well to note. They were the Mr. Wiggenses and Mr. Sprigginses of life; sons of little merchants, or practitioners in the professions, who had bred or intended to breed them to their own vocations; but leaving them small fortunes, from three to five thousand pounds apiece, which sufficing to their immediate views, they would not submit to either the restraint or what they thought the disgrace of business, but resolved to burst forti men of fashion at once.

This, as they imagined, consisted in being able to keep a good horse, with perhaps (for it was not universal), a groom; to ride regularly in the ring, know every coach with a coronet, be a Bond Street lounger (then a great town character), and lodge in its neighbourhood. The richer ones frequented the coffee-houses there, and sometimes even dined at them. These were at all proper times to be seen at Tattersall's and never missed Epsom.

But the happiness and dignity of these gentry were consummate, if they could regularly attend the Opera of a Saturday night, where one of them was a most amusing study-indeed perfectly unique; for, having a few acquaintances of his own of the higher sort, and, by dint of an apprenticeship to it of some years, having acquired a knowledge of the names and persons of most of the people of rank, he was to be seen and heard regularly echoing the announcement of every carriage. as it was called, generally accompanying it with some remark regarding the motions of the owners. Thus, if Lady D.'s carriage was vociferated, he would loudly repeat it, with the addition of "stops the way;" if Lady E.'s, he would cry out, gone some time;" if Lord F.'s, "gone to Brooks's with Lord G.;" if Lady H.'s, "has not been here to-night."

Townsend (then a young minister of police) complained bitterly of this person, for rivalling him, as he said, in his vocation; and once said, with his characteristic liberty of speech, meaning really to compliment him, "What an excellent police officer was spoilt, Sir, when you were made a gentleman." The laugh occasioned by this innuendo kept away the aspirant of fashion two whole nights.

What became of this useless order of beings, as they grew older, I never could exactly make out. It is certain most of them disappeared, though some continued to be seen lounging on "the shady side of Pall Mall" in summer, or expeling smoke from their cigars in winter' neither advancing nor retrograding; the only alteration being from youth to age.

Now and then one of them might contrive to make a comfortable marriage, and take his place among his sister dowagers at the card table; but most passed their lives in useless, monotonous, and irrespectable celibacy: not put to shame by any notorious vice, but total strangers to any active virtue.

Those whose annuities were of a smaller kind altogether disappeared, and were scattered about the world, glad to escape into the colonies, or, if they had interest, into some public office, where I have sometimes detected them, rather to their dismay. But again," Vogue la galere."

I could write a volume on the different characters I met with; some at the clubs, and some at the tables of the great, particularly at Lord Castleton's, where, as his aide-de-camp (the title he gave me), I had my regular place. The parties

were, as may be supposed, chiefly political; but they admitted, from the taste and character of the host, of a mixture of rank and conditions, from the elite of the haute noblesse, to the untitled, but talented man of genius, in letters, or the liberal arts. The conversation, therefore, was often rich and interesting, and generally agreeable; nor, with such a field for it, did I forget Lady Hungerford's advice, to endeavour to banish what it was madness to think of, in the pictures of life thus presented to me.

At one of these dinners, composed of company such as I have described, I was greatly amused, and edified too, by meeting a new sort of character, of whose very existence I had hitherto been ignorant. Granville, who was in general, from his knowledge of the wits, men of letters, and critics of the time, entrusted by Lord Castleton with the task of selecting his guests of this description, had brought this person to the party, to all of whom (at least, those of a higher degree) he seemed a perfect stranger.

Yet everybody had heard of the eminent critic, Mr. John Paragraph; although nobody knew what he had been until he blazed forth as one of the directors of the public taste, which he condescended to guide in a periodical publication. Perhaps he had been, like myself, a decayed gentleman; though, unlike myself, he had been ten years on the town. Hence, on the strength of a considerable portion of verjuice in his composition, and impenetrable impudence in scattering it, whether in print or conversation, he became a first-rate character in the walk he had chosen.

Mr. Paragraph was eminent for a natural slang, which passed, with vulgar people, for wit, and with the weak and timid, for overpowering ability. "Yet I have long," said Granville, who gave me this account, "taken measure of his understanding and acquirements, and even as what he pretends to be, a critic, have found him below mediocrity; but, as a man who has either the mind, manners, or literature of a gentleman, he is not to be named. For the fellow has not a feeling of liberality in his whole carcase; not a sentiment of poetry, a spark of imagination, or the commonest knowledge of history, still less of the nature of man. Yet, having bought a press, he sets up for a critic of all work-poetical, political, historical, and ethical. He is a cormorant for praise from

his miserable hacks, whom he governs with a rod of iron; and, what is more, he makes money by selling his praises to the weak and vain-the would-be authors and orators. If among these there are some above purchasing his puffs, he is able sometimes to force them to buy off his abuse, which they are fools enough not to see rather does them good than harm."

"How comes it, however," said I, " that you produce such a man? for I hear you have invited him to dine with Lord Castleton."

"Why, he is one of those persons, who, being free from all burthen of modesty, and revelling in their intrepidity of assurance, are so far of use, in company, that they will not let people go to sleep. I have, therefore, prevailed upon Lord Castleton, who has heard of, but never yet saw him, to let me invite him, if only to shew the sort of animal he is. You may be sure the invitation was accepted, for he is a great tuft-hunter, as well as a great feeder. A turtle would entice him anywhere, and for a plate of it he would even sell a commendation of the worst book that ever was written. But turtle from a lord, and that lord a minister, will elevate him to the third heaven; for it is certain that his good things, if he have any, depend upon the good things on the table, and the flow of his wit upon the flow of the claret. In short, in these respects, he is an illustration of the description which Johnson gives of a third or fourth rate critic, who finds he can boil his weekly pot better by abuse than by praise."

Granville added, moreover, that Paragraph was a most despotic monarch in his way, and a bully among af minor publishers and authors.

"In short," said he, "it is not easy to say whether vanity, avarice, or impudence, are uppermost in his character."

Such was the redoubtable Mr. Paragraph, whom my friend had persuaded Lord Castleton to invite to his dinner, with a view to shew him and his company what they had often heard of, but perhaps not seen-one of the self-elected rulers of public opinion.

This account of Mr. Paragraph raised both my curiosity and fear. I, however, allayed the last by resolving not to encounter him, but only to listen.

During the first course, everybody was so intent upon the business for which they had assembled, that they gave one

another little opportunity for conversation; and I could see nothing in this terrific person but a coarse gourmand (such as Granville had described him), in his practical demonstration of the excellence of the turbot and turtle. Upon this he complimented my lord, as indeed he did upon every thing every minute; not forgetting, amid a thousand private merits, the wisdom of his public measures, upon which he actually seemed disposed to pronounce a panegyric in form, for the edification of the company, had not Lord Castleton repressed it with disgust, though equivocally conveyed, by saying, in a tone which might by any one else have been taken for irony, that he never ventured to intrude such common-place business as politics upon men of genius and imagination.

This produced a complacent bow from the censor, who took it as a compliment, and after this instance of his tact, allowed the conversation to become general.

I thought, at first, that he felt a little subdued by the class of company in which he now, for the first time, found himself; but was soon undeceived, for he rallied into a sort of collision with Lord Grandison, a nobleman of a certain age, and high breeding, made still more dignified by great gravity of aspect.

This lord was lamenting to Lord Castleton the death, that day, of a common friend of theirs, which he said had occa sioned great grief to his nieces, the Ladies Devenish.

"Yes," said Paragraph, pertly, though not addressed by Lord Grandison," and we may be certain their grief is genuine, for there is a new opera to-morrow, which they will not be able to attend."

"You of course know these ladies ?" observed Lord Grandison in a dry tone, and with a look of distant dignity, yet of surprise, which might have repelled a less bold person than the gallant Paragraph.

"Not I," said he, with great affectation of indifference ; only there is a new opera to-morrow, and I thought their grief would therefore be but natural.”

"Human nature is very much obliged to you," replied Lord Grandison, with still greater gravity; "but let me advise you, Sir, when next you make an offensive observation among strangers, to be more acquainted with the subject of it than you seem to be here. I have known the Ladies Deven