as fine, as correct and supercilious an air as either of their
several masters could have done or any other fine gallants in St.
James's. Moreover it was to be noticed, that each of them had modelled
himself, in more or less degree, upon the gentleman who happened to
rejoice in his service; hence man was faintly reminiscent of master.

"Josh, my nib," said an extremely languid individual, sticking out a
leg and looking at it with as much lazy approval as my Lord Alvaston
might have regarded his own shapely limb, "Josh, my sunbeam, there's
something up--stap my vital organ!"

"Up, sir, up?" enquired a stoutish, pompous person, inhaling a pinch of
snuff with all the graceful hauteur of Sir Benjamin himself, "Up,
William--up what, up where? Od, sir--pronounce, discover."

"Josh, my bird, here's my guv'nor--here's Alvaston been a-sweating and
swearing, writin' o' verses--poetical verses all the morning--which
same is dooced queer, Josh, queer, fishy and highly disturbing--burn my
neck if t'ain't."

"Od!" exclaimed the dignified Josh, "Od, sir, I protest 'tis a amazing
co-in-seedence, here's mine been doing the actool same--I found Sir
Benjamin up to the same caper, sir--ink all over 'imself--his
ruffles--'oly heaven. And poitry too, William, s'elp me!"

"Egad! My eye!" exclaimed a pale youth remarkable for a long nose and
shrill voice, "O strike me pale blue, 'tis a plague o' po'try and
they've all been and took it. Here's Marchdale rings me up at three
o'clock in the morning and when I tumbled up, here's him in his
nightcap and a bottle o' port as I thought I'd put safe out of his
reach, a-staring doleful at a sheet o' paper. 'Horace,' says he,
fierce-like, 'Give me a rhyme for "Bet,"' says he. 'Sir, I hasn't got
e'er a one about me,' I says. 'Then find one this instant,' says he.
'Why then sir, 'ow about "debt?"' I says and he--ups and throws the
bottle at me!"

"'Twas a poetical frenzy, Horace," explained a horsey-looking wight,
winking knowingly, "most poits gets took that way when they're at
it--Alton does, only 'twas his boot which me ducking--went clean
through the winder."

"Pink my perishing soul!" ejaculated the languid William in sleepy
horror, "so they're all at it!"

"'Od refuse me, gentlemen," said Josh, smiting plump fist on table, "we
must look into this before it goes too far----"

"I'm with you, Josh," piped the shrill Horace, "a bottle at your head
ain't to be took smiling--nor yet to b