t of St. Michael.

In those early days, there were vast distinctions of rank drawn between
the court and city people: and Mr. Van den Bosch, when he first came
to London, scarcely associated with any but the latter sort. He had a
lodging near his agent's in the city. When his pretty girl came from
school for a holiday, he took her an airing to Islington or Highgate, or
an occasional promenade in the Artillery Ground in Bunhill Fields. They
went to that Baptist meeting-house in Finsbury Fields, and on the sly
to see Mr. Garrick once or twice, or that funny rogue Mr. Foote, at
the Little Theatre. To go to a Lord Mayor's feast was a treat to the
gentleman of the highest order: and to dance with a young mercer at
Hampstead Assembly. gave the utmost delight to the young lady. When
George first went to wait upon his mother's friends, he found our old
acquaintance, Mr. Draper, of the Temple, sedulous in his attentions to
her; and the lawyer, who was married, told Mr. Warrington to look out,
as the young lady had a plumb to her fortune. Mr. Drabshaw, a young
Quaker gentleman, and nephew of Mr. Trail, Madam Esmond's Bristol agent,
was also in constant attendance upon the young lady, and in dreadful
alarm and suspicion when Mr. Warrington first made his appearance.
Wishing to do honour to his mother's neighbours, Mr. Warrington invited
them to an entertainment at his own apartments; and who should so
naturally meet them as his friends from Soho? Not one of them but was
forced to own little Miss Lydia's beauty. She had the foot of a fairy:
the arms, neck, flashing eyes of a little brown huntress of Diana. She
had brought a little plaintive accent from home with her--of which I,
moi qui vous parle, have heard a hundred gross Cockney imitations, and
watched as many absurd disguises, and which I say (in moderation)
is charming in the mouth of a charming woman. Who sets up to say No,
forsooth? You dear Miss Whittington, with whose h's fate has dealt so
unkindly?--you lovely Miss Nicol Jarvie, with your northern burr?--you
beautiful Miss Molony, with your Dame Street warble? All accents are
pretty from pretty lips, and who shall set the standard up? Shall it be
a rose, or a thistle, or a shamrock, or a star and stripe? As for Miss
Lydia's accent, I have no doubt it was not odious even from the first
day when she set foot on these polite shores, otherwise Mr. Warrington,
as a man of taste, had certainly disapproved of her manner of talki