every village in the kingdom, could
boast a Wellington house, or a Waterloo house, emulous to catch some
gilded ray from the blaze of their great namesake's glory, it would have
been strange indeed if the linendrapers and haberdashers of our good
town of Belford Regis had been so much in the rear of fashion as to
neglect this easy method of puffing off their wares. On the contrary,
so much did our shopkeepers rely upon the influence of an illustrious
appellation, that they seemed to despair of success unless sheltered by
the laurels of the great commander, and would press his name into the
service, even after its accustomed and legitimate forms of use seemed
exhausted. Accordingly we had not only a Wellington house and a Waterloo
house, but a new Waterloo establishment, and a genuine and original Duke
of Wellington warehouse.

The new Waterloo establishment, a flashy dashy shop in the market-place,
occupying a considerable extent of frontage, and "conducted (as the
advertisements have it) by Mr. Joseph Hanson, late of London," put forth
by far the boldest pretensions of any magazine of finery and frippery in
the town; and it is with that magnificent _store_, and with that only,
that I intend to deal in the present story.

If the celebrated Mr. Puff, he of the Critic, who, although Sheridan
probably borrowed the idea of that most amusing personage from the
auctioneers and picture-dealers of Foote's admirable farces,
first reduced to system the art of profitable lying, setting forth
methodically (scientifically it would be called in these days) the
different genera and species of that flourishing craft--if Mr. Puff
himself were to revisit this mortal stage, he would lift; up his hands
and eyes in admiration and astonishment at the improvements which have
taken place in the art from whence he took, or to which he gave, a name
(for the fact is doubtful) the renowned art of Puffing!

Talk of the progress of society, indeed! of the march of intellect, and
the diffusion of knowledge, of infant schools and adult colleges,
of gas-lights and rail-roads, of steam-boats and steam-coaches, of
literature for nothing, and science for less! What are they and fifty
other such nick-nacks compared with the vast strides made by this
improving age in the grand art of puffing? Nay, are they not for the
most part mere implements and accessories of that mighty engine of
trade? What is half the march of intellect, but puffery? Why do little