_Enter SIR SIMON ROCHDALE._

_Sir Simon._ Ah, my dear Tom Shuffleton!

_Shuff._ Baronet! how are you?

_Sir Simon._ Such expedition is kind now! You got my letter at Bath,
and----

_Shuff._ Saw it was pressing:--here I am. Cut all my engagements for
you, and came off like a shot.

_Sir Simon._ Thank you: thank you, heartily!

_Shuff._ Left every thing at sixes and sevens.

_Sir Simon._ Gad, I'm sorry if----

_Shuff._ Don't apologize;--nobody does, now. Left all my bills, in
the place, unpaid.

_Sir Simon._ Bless me! I've made it monstrous inconvenient!

_Shuff._ Not a bit--I give you my honour, I did'nt find it
inconvenient at all. How is Frank Rochdale?

_Sir Simon._ Why, my son is'nt up yet; and before he's stirring, do
let me talk to you, my dear Tom Shuffleton! I have something near my
heart, that--

_Shuff._ Don't talk about your heart, Baronet;--feeling's quite out
of fashion.

_Sir Simon._ Well, then, I'm interested in----

_Shuff._ Aye, stick to that. We make a joke of the heart,
now-a-days; but when a man mentions his interest, we know he's in
earnest.

_Sir Simon._ Zounds! I am in earnest. Let me speak, and call my
motives what you will.

_Shuff._ Speak--but don't be in a passion. We are always cool at the
clubs: the constant habit of ruining one another, teaches us temper.
Explain.

_Sir Simon._ Well, I will. You know, my dear Tom, how much I admire
your proficiency in the New school of breeding;--you are, what I
call, one of the highest finished fellows of the present day.

_Shuff._ Psha! Baronet; you flatter.

_Sir Simon._ No, I don't; only in extolling the merits of the newest
fashion'd manners and morals, I am sometimes puzzled, by the plain
gentlemen, who listen to me, here in the country, most consumedly.

_Shuff._ I don't doubt it.

_Sir Simon._ Why, 'twas but t'other morning, I was haranguing old
Sir Noah Starchington, in my library, and explaining to him the
shining qualities of a dasher, of the year eighteen hundred and
three; and what do you think he did?

_Shuff._ Fell asleep.

_Sir Simon._ No; he pull'd down an English dictionary; when (if
you'll believe me! he found my definition of stylish living, under
the word "insolvency;" a fighting crop turn'd out a "dock'd bull
dog;" and modern gallantry, "adultery and seduction."

_Shuff._ Noah Starchington is a damn'd old twaddler.--But the fact
is, Baronet, we improve. We have voted many qualities to be virtue