his humour, and to talk about himself; and he will stand by a friend in a quarrel, with life and purse, however soundly he may be cudgelled.

"In this last respect, to tell the truth, he has a propensity to be somewhat too ready. He is a busy-minded personage, who thinks not merely for himself and family, but for all the country round, and is most generously disposed to be every body's champion. He is continually volunteering his services to settle his neighbours' affairs, and takes it in great dudgeon if they engage in any matter of consequence without asking his advice; though he seldom engages in any friendly office of the kind without finishing by getting into a squabble with all parties, and then railing bitterly at their ingratitude. He unluckily took lessons in his youth in the noble science of defence, and having accomplished himself in the use of his limbs and his weapons, and become a perfect master at boxing and cudgel-play, he has had a troublesome life of it ever since. cannot hear of a quarrel between the most distant of his neighbours, but he begins, incontinently, to fumble with the head of his cudgel, and consider whether his interest or honour does not require that he should meddle in their broils. Indeed, he has extended his relations of pride and policy so completely over the whole country, that no event can take place, without infringing some of his finelyspun rights and dignities. Couched in his little

He

domain, with his filaments stretching forth in every direction, he is like some choleric, bottle-bellied old spider, who has woven his web over a whole chamber, so that a fly cannot buzz, nor a breeze blow, without startling his repose, and causing him to sally forth wrathfully from his den.

"He is a little fond of playing the magnifico abroad; of pulling out a long purse; flinging his money bravely about at boxing matches, horse-races, and cock-fights, and carrying a high head among gentlemen of the fancy;' but immediately after one of these fits of extravagance, he will be taken with violent qualms of economy; stop short at the most trivial expenditure; talk desperately of being ruined, and brought upon the parish; and in such moods, will not pay the smallest tradesman's bill without violent altercation. He is, indeed, the most punctual and discontented paymaster in the world; drawing his coin out of his breeches pocket with infinite reluctance; paying to the uttermost farthing; but accompanying every guinea with a growl.

"With all his talk of economy, however, he is a bountiful provider, and a hospitable housekeeper. His economy is of a whimsical kind, its chief object being to devise how he may afford to be extravagant; for he will begrudge himself a beef-steak and pint of port one day, that he may roast an ox whole, broach a hogshead of ale, and treat all his neighbours, on the next.

"His domestic establishment is enormously expensive; not so much from any great outward parade, as from the great consumption of solid beef and pudding, the vast number of followers he feeds and clothes, and his singular disposition to pay hugely for small services. He is a most kind and indulgent master; and, provided his servants humour his peculiarities, flatter his vanity a little now and then, and do not peculate grossly on him before his face, they may manage him to perfection. Every thing that lives on him seems to thrive and grow fat His house-servants are well paid, and pampered, and have little to do. His horses are sleek and lazy, and prance slowly before his state-carriage; and his house-dogs sleep quietly about the door, and will hardly bark at a house-breaker.

"John, with all his odd humours and obstinate prejudices, is a sterling-hearted old blade. He may not be so wonderfully fine a fellow as he thinks himself, but he is at least twice as good as his neighbours represent him. His virtues are all his own; all plain, homebred, and unaffected. His very faults smack of the raciness of his good qualities. His extravagance savours of his generosity; his quarrelsomeness of his courage; his credulity of his open faith; his vanity of his pride; and his bluntness of his sincerity. They are all the redundancies of rich and liberal character. He is like his own Oak; rough without, but sound and solid within;

whose bark abounds with excrescences, in proportion to the growth and grandeur of the timber; and whose branches make a fearful groaning and murmuring in the least storm, from their very mag. nitude and luxuriance."

The macadamized streets of London are, at this season, crammed with " Dinner Company," driving against each other as rapidly and roughly as Ambassadors' Equipages on a Birth-night; to this circumstance we are indebted for the following jeu d'esprit :

DINNER COMPANY TO LET.-A CARD.

Messrs. Clack and Caterer respectfully invite the attention of the dinner-giving departments of the Metropolis to the following candid statement of facts:

It happens in London, every day, that gentlemen mount to sudden wealth by Spanish bonds, fluctuations of English stock, death of distant relations, and what not. When this event occurs, a carriage is bespoken, the ladies go to the Soho Bazaar, the father takes a house in Baker-street or Connaughtplace, and the sons get blackballed at all the new clubs in the environs of the Haymarket. Yet still something is wanting. Like the Greek or Persian King (Messrs. Clack and Caterer will not be precise as to the nation), who pined to death in the

midst of plenty, gentlemen thus jumping into high life, from the abysses of Lower Thames-street and Saint Mary Axe, lament the lack of good dinner company. If they rely upon coffee-house society, their silver spoons are in jeopardy; and if they invite their own relations, they are ruined: nobody will come twice to such society. An uncle with an unpowdered pigtail, who prates of pepper and pimento; an aunt in a brown silk gown, who drinks every body's health; a son from Stockwell, who is silent when he ought to talk,-accompanied by a wife, who talks when she ought to be silent, compose a species of society which may do very well at Kensington or Camden Town, but which, Messrs. Clack and Caterer confidently predict, can never take root west of Temple Bar. The consequence is, that gentlemen thus circumstanced, must "cut" their own relations, or nobody else will "come again." Singers may be hired at so much a head : every body knows, to an odd sixpence, the price of "Non nobis, Domine," "Hail, Star of Brunswick,” "Glorious Apollo," and "Scots wha hae.". Good set speakers for Charity-dinners may also be obtained, by inquiry at the bar of the Tavern. These latter go through the routine of duty with a vast deal of decorum. They call the attention of the Company in a particular manner to the present Charity, leaving a blank for its name. They ascribe half of its success to the " worthy treasurer," and