ladies cost four hundred
pounds. That man in drab trousers, coming crying down the stops, is a
dun: Lord Loughcorrib has ruined him, and won't see him: that is his
lordship peeping through the blind of his study at him now. Go thy ways,
Loughcorrib, thou art a Snob, a heartless pretender, a hypocrite of
hospitality; a rogue who passes forged notes upon society;--but I am
growing too eloquent.

You see that nice house, No. 23, where a butcher's boy is ringing the
area-bell. He has three muttonchops in his tray. They are for the dinner
of a very different and very respectable family; for Lady Susan Scraper,
and her daughters, Miss Scraper and Miss Emily Scraper. The domestics,
luckily for them, are on board wages--two huge footmen in light blue and
canary, a fat steady coachman who is a Methodist, and a butler who
would never have stayed in the family but that he was orderly to General
Scraper when the General distinguished himself at Walcheren. His widow
sent his portrait to the United Service Club, and it is hung up in
one of the back dressing-closets there. He is represented at a parlour
window with red curtains; in the distance is a whirlwind, in which
cannon are firing off; and he is pointing to a chart, on which are
written the words 'Walcheren, Tobago.'

Lady Susan is, as everybody knows by referring to the 'British Bible,' a
daughter of the great and good Earl Bagwig before mentioned. She thinks
everything belonging to her the greatest and best in the world. The
first of men naturally are the Buckrams, her own race: then follow in
rank the Scrapers. The General was the greatest general: his eldest son,
Scraper Buckram Scraper, is at present the greatest and best; his second
son the next greatest and best; and herself the paragon of women.

Indeed, she is a most respectable and honourable lady. She goes to
church of course: she would fancy the Church in danger if she did not.
She subscribes to Church and parish charities; and is a directress
of meritorious charitable institutions--of Queen Charlotte's Lying-in
Hospital, the Washerwomen's Asylum, the British Drummers' Daughters'
Home, &c.. She is a model of a matron.

The tradesman never lived who could say that he was not paid on
the quarter-day. The beggars of her neighbourhood avoid her like a
pestilence; for while she walks out, protected by John, that domestic
has always two or three mendicity tickets ready for deserving objects.
Ten guineas a year will pa