life, of which the originals are to be seen daily.

"The haberdasher of Cheapside, whose father, by adherence to the
most rigid economy, had amassed a competence, and who transmitted his
property, without his prudence, to his darling son, is determined to
shew his spirit, by buying a _bit of blood_, keeping his gig, his girl,
and a thatched cottage on the skirts of Epping Forest, or Sydenham
Common; but as keeping a girl and a gig would be a nothing unless
all the world were _up to it_, he regularly drives her to all the
boxing-matches, the Epping hunt, and all the races at Barnet, Epsom,
Egham, and Ascot Heath, where he places himself in one of the most
conspicuous situations; and as he knows his racing, &c. must eventually
distinguish his name in the Gazette with a whereas! he rejoices in the
progress and acceleration of his own ruin, and, placing his arms akimbo,
he laughs, sings, swears, swaggers, and vociferates--'What d'ye think o'
that now,--is'nt this doing it in stile, eh?'

"Prime of life to go it, where's a place like London? Four in hand
to-day, the next you may be undone."

[Illustration: page44 Epson Racers]

"Well, Sir, the mercer's wife, from Watling Street, thinks living
in style is evinced by going once a year to a masquerade at the new
Museodeum, or Argyle Rooms; having her daughters taught French, dancing,
and music--dancing a minuet at Prewterers' Hall, or Mr. Wilson's{1}
annual benefit--in getting a good situation in the green boxes--going
to Hampstead or Copenhagen House in a glass coach on a Sunday--having
card-parties at home

1 Mr. Wilson's flaming bills of "Dancing at the Old Bailey,"
which are so profusely stuck up about the city, are said to
have occasioned several awkward jokes and blunders; among
others related, is that of a great unintellectual Yorkshire
booby, who, after staring at the bills with his mouth open,
and his saucer eyes nearly starting out of his head with
astonishment, exclaimed, "Dang the buttons on't, I zee'd urn
dangling all of a row last Wednesday at t' Ould Bailey, but
didn't know as how they call'd that danzing,--by gum there
be no understanding these here Lunnun folk!"

~45~~during Lent, declaring she never drinks any thing else but the
_most bestest_ gunpowder tea, that she has a most _screwciating_ cold,
and that the country air is always _salubrus_, and sure to do her good.

"So much for living in style,