ct of our present concerns, which
leads to gradual ruin. Time "travels at divers paces," but with none
more quickly than the unprepared debtor; and he who allows his debts to
get the start of his fortune, lives upon other men's estates, and must
accordingly become the slave of their passions and prejudices: in truth,
he may be thus said to be parting with his existence by piece-meal.
Hence, he becomes a kind of _convict_ in society--his debts
resembling a log of wood chained to his body, and a brand-mark on his
conscience. Thus pent up with fear and disquietude, his imprisonment is
twofold, and being an enemy to his own peace, he is apt to imagine all
men to be leagued against him. If his debts are those of youth, his old
age will probably resemble the sequel to revelry, when appetite is fled
to make way for disgust and spleen: and he dies--in debt. Mark the
lamentable scenes that follow, when the pride of inheritance sinks
before the unsparing hand of the usurer, or extortionate mortgagee.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

SIR LUMLEY SKEFFINGTON.

Sir Lumley St. George Skeffington was the dandy of the olden time, and a
kinder, better-hearted man, never existed. He is a person of some taste
in literature, and of polished manners, nor has his long intercourse
with fashionable society at all affected that simplicity of character
for which he has been remarkable. He was a true dandy: and much more
than, that, he was a perfect gentleman. I remember, long long since,
entering Covent Garden Theatre, when I observed a person holding the
door to let me pass; deeming him to be one of the box-keepers, I was
about to nod my thanks: when I found, to my surprise, that it was
Skeffington, who had thus goodnaturedly honoured a stranger by his
attention. We with some difficulty obtained seats in a box, and I was
indebted to accident for one of the most agreeable evenings I remember
to have passed.

I remember visiting the Opera, when late dinners were the rage, and the
hour of refection was carried far into the night. I was again placed
near the fugleman of fashion (for to his movements were all eyes
directed: and his sanction determined the accuracy of all conduct). He
bowed from box to box, until recognising one of his friends in the lower
tier, "Temple," he exclaimed, drawling out his weary words,
"at--what--hour--do--you--dine--to-day?