tick the honest, meek eyes of
his companion-author.

"They do not see very well, my dear Mulso," he says to the young lady,
"but such as they are, I would keep my lash from Mr. Johnson's cudgel.
Your servant, sir." Here he made a low bow, and took off his hat to Mr.
Warrington, who shrank back with many blushes, after saluting the great
author. The great author was accustomed to be adored. A gentler wind
never puffed mortal vanity. Enraptured spinsters flung tea-leaves round
him, and incensed him with the coffee-pot. Matrons kissed the slippers
they had worked for him. There was a halo of virtue round his nightcap.
All Europe had thrilled, panted, admired, trembled, wept, over the pages
of the immortal little, kind, honest man with the round paunch. Harry
came back quite glowing and proud at having a bow from him. "Ah!" says
he, "my lord, I am glad to have seen him!"

"Seen him! why, dammy, you may see him any day in his shop, I suppose?"
says Jack, with a laugh.

"My brother declared that he, and Mr. Fielding, I think, was the name,
were the greatest geniuses in England; and often used to say, that when
we came to Europe, his first pilgrimage would be to Mr. Richardson,"
cried Harry, always impetuous, honest, and tender, when he spoke of the
dearest friend.

"Your brother spoke like a man," cried Mr. Wolfe, too, his pale face
likewise flushing up. "I would rather be a man of genius, than a peer of
the realm."

"Every man to his taste, Colonel," says my lord, much amused. "Your
enthusiasm--I don't mean anything personal--refreshes me, on my honour
it does."

"So it does me--by gad--perfectly refreshes me," cries Jack

"So it does Jack--you see--it actually refreshes Jack! I say, Jack,
which would you rather be?--a fat old printer," who has written a story
about a confounded girl and a fellow that ruins her,--or a peer of
Parliament with ten thousand a year?"

"March--my Lord March, do you take me for a fool?" says Jack, with a
tearful voice. "Have I done anything to deserve this language from you?"

"I would rather win honour than honours: I would rather have genius than
wealth. I would rather make my name than inherit it, though my father's,
thank God, is an honest one," said the young Colonel. "But pardon me,
gentlemen," and here making, them a hasty salutation, he ran across the
parade towards a young and elderly lady and a gentleman, who were now
advancing.

"It is the beautiful Miss Lowther. I remember