fortifies his
lungs, which are weak, by smoking cigars all day. The policemen about
the Haymarket know the little creature, and the early cabmen salute him.
The closed doors of fish and lobster shops open after service, and vomit
out little Famish, who is either tipsy and quarrelsome--when he wants
to fight the cabmen; or drunk and helpless--when some kind friend (in
yellow satin) takes care of him. All the neighbourhood, the cabmen, the
police, the early potato-men, and the friends in yellow satin, know the
young fellow, and he is called Little Bobby by some of the very worst
reprobates in Europe.

His mother, Lady Fanny Famish, believes devoutly that Robert is in
London solely for the benefit of consulting the physician; is going to
have him exchanged into a dragoon regiment, which doesn't go to that
odious India; and has an idea that his chest is delicate, and that
he takes gruel every evening, when he puts his feet in hot water. Her
Ladyship resides at Cheltenham, and is of a serious turn.

Bobby frequents the 'Union Jack Club' of course; where he breakfasts on
pale ale and devilled kidneys at three o'clock; where beardless young
heroes of his own sort congregate, and make merry, and give each other
dinners; where you may see half-a-dozen of young rakes of the fourth
or fifth order lounging and smoking on the steps; where you behold
Slapper's long-tailed leggy mare in the custody of a red-jacket until
the Captain is primed for the Park with a glass of curacoa; and where
you see Hobby, of the Highland Buffs, driving up with Dobby, of the
Madras Fusiliers, in the great banging, swinging cab, which the latter
hires from Rumble of Bond Street.

In fact, Military Snobs are of such number and variety, that a hundred
weeks of PUNCH would not suffice to give an audience to them. There is,
besides the disreputable old Military Snob, who has seen service, the
respectable old Military Snob, who has seen none, and gives himself the
most prodigious Martinet airs. There is the Medical-Military Snob, who
is generally more outrageously military in his conversation than the
greatest SABREUR in the army. There is the Heavy-Dragoon Snob, whom
young ladies, admire with his great stupid pink face and yellow
moustaches--a vacuous, solemn, foolish, but brave and honourable Snob.
There is the Amateur-Military Snob who writes Captain on his card
because he is a Lieutenant in the Bungay Militia. There is the
Lady-killing Military Snob; a