letter over with him. Au revoir, gentlemen!" and she went away
to her toilette. Her chairmen and flambeaux were already waiting at the
door.

The gentlemen went to Ranelagh, where but a few of Mr. Harry's
acquaintances chanced to be present. They paced the round, and met Mr.
Tom Claypool with some of his country friends; they heard the music;
they drank tea in a box; Harry was master of ceremonies, and introduced
his brother to the curiosities of the place; and George was even more
excited than his brother had been on his first introduction to this
palace of delight. George loved music much more than Harry ever did;
he heard a full orchestra for the first time, and a piece of Mr. Handel
satisfactorily performed; and a not unpleasing instance of Harry's
humility and regard for his elder brother was, that he could even hold
George's love of music in respect at a time when fiddling was voted
effeminate and unmanly in England, and Britons were, every day, called
upon by the patriotic prints to sneer at the frivolous accomplishments
of your Squallinis, Monsieurs, and the like. Nobody in Britain is proud
of his ignorance now. There is no conceit left among us. There is no
such thing as dulness. Arrogance is entirely unknown... Well, at any
rate, Art has obtained her letters of naturalisation, and lives here on
terms of almost equality. If Mrs. Thrale chose to marry a music-master
now, I don't think her friends would shudder at the mention of her name.
If she had a good fortune and kept a good cook, people would even go and
dine with her in spite of the misalliance, and actually treat Mr. Piozzi
with civility.

After Ranelagh, and pursuant to Madam Bernstein's advice, George
returned to her ladyship's house, whilst Harry showed himself at the
club, where gentlemen were accustomed to assemble at night to sup, and
then to gamble. No one, of course, alluded to Mr. Warrington's little
temporary absence, and Mr. Ruff, his ex-landlord, waited upon him with
the utmost gravity and civility, and as if there had never been any
difference between them. Mr. Warrington had caused his trunks and
habiliments to be conveyed away from Bond Street in the morning, and he
and his brother were now established in apartments elsewhere.

But when the supper was done, and the gentlemen, as usual, were about to
seek the macco-table upstairs, Harry said he was not going to play
any more. He had burned his fingers already, and could afford no more
ext