is one of the dearest pleasures of the human
heart.

_The Wife._--Indeed, Sir, and that it is.

_The Tout._--The choice of articles, apart from their usefulness, is an
appetising occupation, and to exchange bald, uniform shillings for a
fine big, figurative knick-knack, such as a windmill, a gross of green
spectacles, or a cocked hat, gives us a direct and emphatic sense of
gain. We have had many shillings before, as good as these; but this is
the first time we have possessed a windmill. Upon these principles of
human nature, Sir, is based the theory of the Charity Bazaar. People
were doubtless charitably disposed. The problem was to make the exercise
of charity entertaining in itself--you follow me, Madam?--and in the
Charity Bazaar a satisfactory solution was attained. The act of giving
away money for charitable purposes is, by this admirable invention,
transformed into an amusement, and puts on the externals of profitable
commerce. You play at shopping a while; and in order to keep up the
illusion, sham goods do actually change hands. Thus, under the
similitude of a game, I have seen children confronted with the horrors
of arithmetic, and even taught to gargle.

_The Ingenuous Public._--You expound this subject very magisterially,
Sir. But tell me, would it not be possible to carry this element of play
still further? and after I had remained a proper time in the Bazaar, and
negotiated a sufficient number of sham bargains, would it not be
possible to return me my money in the hall?

_The Tout._--I question whether that would not impair the humour of the
situation. And besides, my dear Sir, the pith of the whole device is to
take that money from you.

_The Ingenuous Public._--True. But at least the Bazaar might take back
the tea-cosies and pen-wipers.

_The Tout._--I have no doubt, if you were to ask it handsomely, that you
would be so far accommodated. Still it is out of the theory. The sham
goods, for which, believe me, I readily understand your
disaffection--the sham goods are well adapted for their purpose. Your
lady wife will lay these tea-cosies and pen-wipers aside in a safe
place, until she is asked to contribute to another Charity Bazaar. There
the tea-cosies and pen-wipers will be once more charitably sold. The new
purchasers, in their turn, will accurately imitate the dispositions of
your lady wife. In short, Sir, the whole affair is a cycle of
operations. The tea-cosies and pen-wipers are merely cou