that
I am in terror lest he fall to pieces. Now only get him into the
breakfast-room for me, and then I ask no more for the present. Only
dress him, and bring him _down stairs_.

_B_. There again you prove your incapability. Bring him down stairs!
Your hero of a fashionable novel never ascends to the first floor.
Bed-room, dressing-room, breakfast-room, library, and boudoir, all are
upon a level. As for his dressing, you must only describe it as perfect
when finished; but not enter into a regular detail, except that, in
conversation with his valet, he occasionally asks for something
unheard-of, or fastidious to a degree. You must not walk him from one
chamber to another, but manage it as follows:--"It was not until the
beautiful airs of the French clock that decorated the mantel-piece had
been thrice played, with all their variations, that the Honourable
Augustus Bouverie entered his library, where he found his assiduous
Coridon burning an aromatic pastille to disperse the compound of
villainous exhalations arising from the condensed metropolitan
atmosphere. Once more in a state of repose, to the repeated and almost
affecting solicitations of his faithful attendant, who alternately
presented to him the hyson of Pekoe, the bohea of Twankay, the fragrant
berry from the Asiatic shore, and the frothing and perfumed decoction of
the Indian nut, our hero shook his head in denial, until he at last was
prevailed upon to sip a small liqueur glass of _eau sucre_." The fact
is, Arthur, he is in love--don't you perceive? Now introduce a friend,
who rallies him--then a resolution to think no more of the heroine--a
billet on a golden salver--a counter resolution--a debate which equipage
to order--a decision at last--hat, gloves, and furred great coat--and by
that time you will have arrived to the middle of the first volume.

_A_. I perceive; but I shall certainly stick there without your
assistance.

_B_. You shall have it, my dear fellow. In a week I will call again,
and see how you get on. Then we'll introduce the heroine; that, I can
tell you, requires some tact--_au revoir_.

_A_. Thanks, many thanks, my dear Barnstaple. Fare you well.

_Exit_ BARNSTAPLE.
_A (looking over his memoranda_.)--It will do! (_Hopping and dancing
about the room_.) Hurrah! my tailor's bill will be paid after all!

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