When a thing of this sort is once fairly set going, where is it to end? When fashion does go mad, her madness is wonderful; and she very soon turns the world mad. Presently the young men appeared everywhere in black satin stocks, embroidered, some with flowers, and others with gold, and which went by the name of "Titmouse-Ties;" and in hats, with high crowns and rims a quarter of an inch in depth, called "Tittlebats." All the young blades about town, especially the clerks and shopmen in the city, dressed themselves in the most extravagant style; an amazing impetus was given to the cigar trade—whose shops were crowded, especially at nights; and every puppy that walked the streets puffed cigar-smoke in your eyes. In short, pert and lively Titmice might be seen hopping about the streets in all directions. As for Tag-rag, wonders befell him. A paragraph in a paper pointed him out as the original of Black-bag, and his shop in Oxford Street as the scene of Titmouse's service. Thither quickly poured the tide of fashionable curiosity, and custom. His business was soon trebled. He wore his best clothes every day, and smirked and smiled, and bustled about amid the crowd in his shop, in a perfect fever of excitement. He began to think of buying the adjoining premises, and adding them to his own; and set his name down as a subscriber of a guinea a-year to the "Decayed Drapers' Association." Those were glorious times for Mr. Tag-rag. He was forced to engage a dozen extra hands; there were seldom less than fifty or a hundred persons in his shop at once; strings of carriages stood before his door, sometimes two deep, and continual strugglings occurred between the coachmen for precedence. In fact, Mr. Tag-rag believed that the Millennium (about which he had often heard wonders from Mr. Dismal Horror, who, it seemed, knew all about it—a fact of which he had first persuaded his congregation, and then himself) was coming in earnest.
CHAPTER IX
The undulations of the popular excitement in town, were not long in reaching the calm retreat of Mr. Titmouse in Yorkshire. To say nothing of his having on several occasions observed artists busily engaged in sketching different views of the Hall and its surrounding scenery, and, on inquiry, discovered that they had been sent from London for the express purpose of presenting to the excited public sketches of the "residence of Mr. Titmouse," a copy of the inimitable performance of Mr. Bladdery Pip—viz. "Tippetiwink," (tenth edition) was sent down to Mr. Titmouse by Gammon; who also forwarded to him, from time to time, newspapers containing those paragraphs which identified Titmouse with the hero of the novel, and also testified the profound impression which it was making upon the thinking classes of the community. Was Titmouse's wish to witness the ferment he had so unconsciously produced in the metropolis, unreasonable? Yatton was beginning to look duller daily, even before the arrival of this stimulating intelligence from town; Titmouse feeling quite out of his element. So—Gammon non contradicente—up came Titmouse to town. If he had not been naturally a fool, the notice he attracted in London must soon have made him one. He had been for coming up in a post-chaise and four; but Gammon, in a letter, succeeded in dissuading him from incurring so useless an expense, assuring him that men of even as high consideration as himself, constantly availed themselves of the safe and rapid transit afforded by the royal mail. His valet, on being appealed to, corroborated Mr. Gammon's representations; adding, that the late hour in the evening at which that respectable vehicle arrived in town would effectually shroud him from public observation. Giving strict and repeated orders to his valet to deposit him at once "in a first-rate West-End hotel," the haughty lord of Yatton, plentifully provided with cigars, stepped into the mail, his valet perching himself upon the box-seat. That gifted functionary was well acquainted with town, and resolved on his master's taking up his quarters at the Harcourt Hotel, in the immediate vicinity of Bond Street.
The mail passed the Peacock, at Islington, about half-past eight o'clock; and long before they had reached even that point, the eager and anxious eye of Titmouse had been on the look-out for indications of his celebrity. He was, however, compelled to own that both people and places seemed much as usual—wearing no particular air of excitement. At this he was a little chagrined, till he reflected on the vulgar ignorance of the movements of the great, for which the eastern regions of the metropolis were proverbial, and also on the increasing duskiness of the evening, the rapid pace at which the mail rattled along, and the circumstance of his being concealed inside. When his humble hackney-coach (its driver a feeble old man, with a wisp of straw for a hat-band, and sitting on the rickety box like a heap of dirty old clothes, and the flagging and limping horses looking truly miserable objects) had rumbled slowly up to the lofty and gloomy door of the Harcourt Hotel, it seemed to excite no notice whatever. A tall waiter, in a plain suit of black evening dress, with his hands stuck behind his coat-tails, continued standing in the ample doorway, eying the plebeian vehicle which had drawn up, with utter indifference—conjecturing, probably, that it had come to the wrong door. With the same air of provoking superciliousness he stood till the valet, having jumped down from his seat beside the driver, ran up, and in a peremptory sort of way exclaimed, "Mr. Titmouse of Yatton!" This stirred the waiter into something like energy.
"Here, sir!" called out Mr. Titmouse from within the coach; and on the waiter's slowly approaching, the former inquired of him in a sufficiently swaggering manner—"Pray, has the Earl of Dreddlington been inquiring for me here to-day?" The words seemed to operate like magic; converting the person addressed, in a moment, into a slave—supple and obsequious.
"His Lordship has not been here to-day, sir," he replied in a low tone, with a most courteous inclination, gently opening the door, and noiselessly letting down the steps. "Do you alight, sir?"
"Why—a—have you room for me, and my fellow there?"
"Oh yes, sir! certainly.—Shall I show you into the coffee-room, sir?"
"The coffee-room? Curse the coffee-room, sir! Demme, sir, do you suppose I'm a commercial traveller? Show me into a private room, sir!" The waiter bowed low; and in silent surprise led Mr. Titmouse to a very spacious and elegantly-furnished apartment—where, amid the blaze of six wax candles, and attended by three waiters, he supped, an hour or two afterwards, in great state—retiring about eleven o'clock to his apartment, overcome with fatigue—and brandy and water: having fortunately escaped the indignity of being forced to sit in the room where an English nobleman, two or three county members, and a couple of foreign princes, were sitting sipping their claret, some writing letters, and others conning over the evening papers. About noon, the next day, he called upon the Earl of Dreddlington; and though, under ordinary circumstances, his Lordship would have considered the visit rather unseasonable, he nevertheless received his fortunate and now truly distinguished kinsman with the most urbane cordiality. At the earl's suggestion, and with Mr. Gammon's concurrence, Titmouse, within about a week after his arrival in town, took a set of chambers in the Albany, together with the elegant furniture which had belonged to their late tenant, a distinguished fashionable, who had shortly before suddenly gone abroad upon a mission of great importance—to himself: viz. to avoid his creditors. Mr. Titmouse soon began to feel, in various ways, the distinction which was attached to his name—commencing, as he did at once, the gay and brilliant life of a man of high fashion, and under the august auspices of the Earl of Dreddlington. Like as a cat, shod with walnut-shells by some merry young scapegrace, doubtless feels more and more astounded at the clatter it makes in scampering up and down the bare echoing floors and staircases; so, in some sort, was it with Titmouse, in respect of the sudden and amazing éclat with which all his appearances and movements were attended in the regions of fashion. 'Tis a matter of indifference to a fool, whether you laugh with him or at him; so as that you do but laugh—an observation which will account for much of the conduct both of Lord Dreddlington and Titmouse. In this short life, and dull world, the thing is—to create a sensation, never mind how; and every opportunity of doing so should be gratefully seized hold of, and improved to the uttermost, by those who have nothing else to do, and have an inclination to distinguish themselves from the common herd of mankind, and show that they have not lived in vain. Lord Dreddlington had got so inflated by the attention he excited, that he set down everything he witnessed to the score of deference and admiration. His self-conceit was so intense, that it consumed every vestige of sense he had about him. He stood in solitary grandeur upon the lofty pillar of his pride, inaccessible to ridicule, and insensible indeed of its approach, like vanity "on a monument smiling at" scorn. Indeed,
"His soul was like a star, and dwelt apart."
He did not conceive it possible for any one to laugh at him, or anything he might choose to do, or any one he might think fit to associate with and introduce to the notice of society—which kind office he forthwith performed for Titmouse, to whose odd person, and somewhat eccentric dress and demeanor, his Lordship (who imagined that the same operation was going on in the minds of other people) was growing daily more reconciled. Thus, that which had at first so shocked his Lordship, he got at length perfectly familiar and satisfied with, and began to suspect whether it had not been assumed by Titmouse, out of a daring scorn for the intrusive opinions of the world, which showed a loftiness of spirit akin to his Lordship's own. Besides, in another point of view—suppose the manner and appearance of Titmouse were ever so absurd, so long as his Lordship chose to tolerate them, who should venture to gainsay them? So the earl asked him frequently to dinner; took him with them when his Lordship and Lady Cecilia went out in the evenings; gave him a seat in his carriage in going down to the House; and invited him to accompany him and Lady Cecilia when they either drove or rode round the Park. As for the matter of riding, Titmouse's assiduous attention at the riding-school, enabled him to appear on horseback without being glaringly unequal to the management of his horse, which, however, he more than once induced to back somewhat threateningly upon those of Lady Cecilia and the earl. Titmouse happening to let fall, at the earl's table, that he had that day ordered an elegant chariot to be built for him, his Lordship intimated that a cab was the usual turn-out of a bachelor man of fashion; whereupon Titmouse the next day countermanded his order, and was fortunate enough to secure a cab which had just been completed for a young nobleman who was unable to pay for it, and whom, consequently, the builder did not care about disappointing. He soon provided himself with a great horse and a little tiger. What pen can do justice to the feelings with which he first sat down in that cab, yielding upon its thoroughly well-balanced springs, took the reins from his little tiger, and then heard him jump up behind! As it was a trifle too early for the Park, he suddenly bethought himself of exhibiting his splendors before the establishment of Mr. Tag-rag; so he desired his little imp behind to run and summon his valet, who in a trice came down; and in answer to a question, "whether there wasn't something wanting from a draper or hosier," was informed glibly, that six dozen of best cambric pocket handkerchiefs, a dozen or two pair of white kid gloves, half-a-dozen stocks, and various other items were "wanting"—(i. e. by the valet himself, for Titmouse was already profusely provided with these articles.) Off, however, he drove—occupied with but one idea—and succeeded, at length, in reaching the Oxford Street establishment, before the door of which five or six carriages were standing. I should say that, at the moment of Mr. Titmouse's strutting into that scene of his former miserable servitude, he experienced a gush of delight sufficient to have effaced all recollection of the wretchedness, privation, and oppression, endured in his early days. There was presently an evident flutter among the gentlemen engaged behind the counter—for, thought they—it must be "the great Mr. Titmouse!" Mr. Tag-rag, catching sight of him, bounced out of his little room, and bustled up to him through the crowd of customers, bowing, scraping, blushing, and rubbing his hands, full of pleasurable excitement, and exhibiting the most profound obsequiousness. "Hope you're well, sir," he commenced in a low tone, but instantly added, in a louder voice, observing that Mr. Titmouse chose to appear to have come merely upon business, "what can I have the honor to do for you, sir, this morning?" And handing him a stool, Tag-rag, with a respectful air, received a very liberal order from Mr. Titmouse, and called for a shopman to make a minute of the precious words which fell from the lips of Mr. Titmouse.
"Dear me, sir, is that your cab?" said Tag-rag, as, having accompanied Titmouse, bowing at every step, to the door, they both stood there for a moment, "I never saw such a beautiful turn-out in my life, sir"–
"Ya—a—s. Pretty well—pretty well; but that young rascal of mine's dirtied one of his boots a little—dem him!" and he looked terrors at the tiger.
"Oh dear!—so he has; shall I wipe it off, sir? Do let one of my young men"–
"No, it don't signify much. By the way, Mr. Tag-rag," added Mr. Titmouse, in a drawling way, "all well at—at—demme if I've not, at this moment, forgot the name of your place in the country"–
"Satin Lodge, sir," said Tag-rag, meekly, but with infinite inward uneasiness.
"Oh—ay, to be sure. One sees, 'pon my soul, such a lot of places—but—eh?—all well?"
"All very well, indeed, sir; and constantly talking of you, sir," replied Tag-rag, with an earnestness amounting to intensity.
"Ah—well! My compliments—" here he drew on his second glove, and moved towards his cab, Tag-rag accompanying him—"glad they're well. If ever I'm driving that way—good-day!" In popped Titmouse—up jumped his tiger behind—crack went his whip—and away darted the horse and splendid vehicle—Tag-rag following it with an admiring and anxious eye.
As Mr. Titmouse sat in his cab, on his way to the Park, dressed in the extreme of the mode; his glossy hat perched sideways on his bushy, well-oiled, but somewhat mottled hair; his surtout lined with velvet; his full satin stock, spangled with inwrought gold flowers, and ornamented with two splendid pins, connected together with delicate double gold chains; his shirt-collar turned down over his stock; his chased gold eyeglass stuck in his right eye; the stiff wristbands of his shirt turned back over his coat-cuffs; and his red hands concealed in snowy kid gloves, holding his whip and reins with graceful ease: when he considered the exquisite figure he must thus present to the eye of all beholders, and gave them credit for gazing at him with the same sort of feelings which similar sights had, but a few months before, excited in his despairing breast, his little cup of happiness was full, and even brimming over. This, though I doubt whether it was a just reflection, was still a very natural one; for he knew what his own feelings were, though not how weak and absurd they were; and of course judged of others by himself. If the Marquis of Whigborough, with his £200,000 a-year, and 5,000 independent voters at his command, had been on his way down to the House, absorbed with anxiety as to the effect of the final threat he was going to make to the Minister, that, unless he had a few strawberry leaves promised him, he should feel it his duty to record his vote against the great Bill for "Giving Everybody Everything," which stood for a third reading that evening; or the great Duke of –, a glance of whose eye, or a wave of whose hand, was sufficient to have lit up an European war, and who might at that moment have been balancing in his mind the fate of millions of mankind, as depending upon his fiat for peace or war:—I say, that if both, or either of these personages, had passed or met Mr. Titmouse, in their cabs, (which they were mechanically urging onward, so absorbed the while with their own thoughts, that they scarce knew whether they were in a cab or a handbarrow, in which latter, had it been before their gates, either of them might, in his abstraction, have seated himself;) Titmouse's superior acquaintance with human nature assured him, that the sight of his tip-top turn-out, could not fail of attracting their attention, and nettling their pride. Whether Milton, if cast on a desolate island, but with the means of writing Paradise Lost, would have done so, had he been certain that no human eye would ever peruse a line of it; or whether Mr. Titmouse, had he been suddenly deposited in his splendid cab, in the midst of the desert of Sahara, with not one of his species to fix an envying eye upon him, would nevertheless have experienced a great measure of satisfaction, I am not prepared to say. As, however, every condition of life has its mixture of good and evil, so, if Titmouse had been placed in the midst of the aforesaid desert at the time when he was last before the reader, instead of dashing along Oxford Street, he would have escaped certain difficulties and dangers which he presently encountered. Had an ape, not acquainted with the science of driving, been put into Titmouse's place, he would probably have driven much in the same style, though he would have had greatly the advantage over his rival in respect of his simple and natural appearance; being, to the eye of correct taste, "when unadorned, adorned the most." Mr. Titmouse, in spite of the assistance to his sight which he derived from his neutral22 glass, was continually coming into collision with the vehicles which met and passed him, on his way to Cumberland Gate. He got into no fewer than four distinct rows (to say nothing of the flying curses which he received in passing) between the point which I have named, and Mr. Tag-rag's premises. But as he was by no means destitute of spirit, he sat in his cab, on these four occasions, cursing and blaspheming like a little fiend; till he almost brought tears of vexation into the eyes of one or two of his opponents, (cads, cab-drivers, watermen, hackney-coachmen, carters, stage-coachmen, market-gardeners, and draymen,) who unexpectedly found their own weapon—i. e. slang—wielded with such superior power and effect, for once in a way, by a swell—an aristocrat. The more manly of his opponents were filled with secret respect for the possessor of such unsuspected powers. Still it was unpleasant for a person of Mr. Titmouse's distinction to be engaged in these conflicts; and he would have given the world to have conquered his conceit so far as to summon his little tiger within, and surrender to him the reins. Such a ridiculous confession of his own incapacity, however, he could not think of, and he got into several little disturbances in the Park; after which he drove home: the battered cab had to be taken to the maker's, where the injuries it had sustained were repaired, however, for the trifling sum of forty pounds.
The position obtained for Titmouse by the masterly genius of Mr. Bladdery Pip, was secured and strengthened by much more substantial claims upon the respect of society than those derived from literary genius. Rumor is a dame always looking at objects through very strong magnifying-glasses; and who, guided by what she saw, soon gave out that Titmouse was patron of three boroughs; had a clear rent-roll of thirty thousand a-year; and had already received nearly a hundred thousand pounds in hard cash from the previous proprietor of his estates, as a compensation for the back rents, which that usurper had been for so many years in the receipt of. Then he was—in truth and fact—very near in succession to the ancient and distinguished Barony of Drelincourt, and the extensive estates thereto annexed. He was young; by no means ill-looking; and was—unmarried. Under the mask of naïveté and eccentricity, it was believed that he concealed great natural acuteness, for the purpose of ascertaining who were his real and who only his pretended friends and well-wishers, and that his noble relatives had given in to his little scheme, for the purpose of aiding him in the important discovery upon which he was bent. Infinite effect was thus given to the earl's introductions. Wherever Titmouse went, he found new and delightful acquaintances; and invitations to dinners, balls, routs, soirées, came showering daily into his rooms at the Albany, where also were left innumerable cards, bearing names of very high fashion. All who had daughters or sisters in the market, paid eager and persevering court to Mr. Titmouse, and still more so to the Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia, his august sponsors; so that—such being the will of that merry jade Fortune—they who had once regarded him as an object only of shuddering disgust and ineffable contempt, and had been disposed to order their servants to show him out again into the streets, were now, in a manner, magnified and made honorable by means of their connection with him; or rather, society, through his means, had become suddenly sensible of the commanding qualities and pretensions of the Earl of Dreddlington and the Lady Cecilia. In the ball-room—at Almack's even—how many young men, handsome, accomplished, and of the highest personal consequence and rank, applied in vain for the hand of haughty beauty, which Mr. Titmouse had only to ask for, and obtain! Whose was the opera-box into which he might not drop as a welcome visitor, and be seen lounging in envied familiarity with its fair and brilliant inmates? Were there not mothers of high fashion, of stately pride, of sounding rank, who would have humbled themselves before Titmouse, if thereby he could have been brought a suitor to the feet of one of their delicate and beautiful daughters? But it was not over the fair sex alone that the magic of Mr. Titmouse's name and pretensions had obtained this great and sudden ascendency; he excited no small attention among men of fashion—great numbers of whom quickly recognized in him one very fit to become their butt and their dupe. What signified it to men secure of their own position in society, that they were seen openly associating with one so outrageously absurd in his dress—and vulgar and ignorant beyond all example? So long as he bled freely, and "trotted out," briskly and willingly, his eccentricities could be not merely tolerated, but humored. Take, for instance, the gay and popular Marquis Gants-Jaunes de Millefleurs; but he is worth a word or two of description, because of the position he had contrived to acquire and retain, and the influence which he managed to exercise over a considerable portion of London society. The post he was anxious to secure was that of the leader of ton; and he wished it to appear that that was the sole object of his ambition. While, however, he affected to be entirely engrossed by such matters as devising new and exquisite variations of dress, equipage, and cookery, he was, in reality, bent upon graver pursuits—upon gratifying his own licentious tastes and inclinations, with secrecy and impunity. He really despised folly, cultivating and practising only vice; in which he was, in a manner, an epicure. He was now about his forty-second year; had been handsome; was of bland and fascinating address; variously accomplished; of exquisite tact; of most refined taste. There was, however, a slight fulness and puffiness about his features—an expression in his eye which spoke of satiety—and spoke truly. He was a very proud, selfish, heartless person; but these qualities he contrived to disguise from many of even his most intimate associates. An object of constant anxiety to him, was to ingratiate himself with the younger and weaker branches of the aristocracy, in order to secure a distinguished status in society, and he succeeded. To gain this point, he taxed all his resources; never were so exquisitely blended, as in his instance, with a view to securing his influence, the qualities of dictator and parasite: he always appeared the agreeable equal of those whom, for his life, he dared not seriously have offended. He had no fortune; no visible means of making money—did not sensibly sponge upon his friends, nor fall into conspicuous embarrassments; yet he always lived in luxury.—Without money, he in some inconceivable manner always contrived to be in the possession of money's worth. He had a magical power of soothing querulous tradesmen. He had a knack of always keeping himself, his clique, his sayings and doings, before the eye of the public, in such a manner as to satisfy it that he was the acknowledged leader of fashion. Yet was it in truth no such thing—but only a false fashion; there being all the difference between him, and a man of real consequence, in society, that there is between mock and real pearl—between paste and diamond. It was true that young men of sounding name and title were ever to be found in his train, thereby giving real countenance to one from whom they fancied (till they found out their mistake) that they themselves derived celebrity; thus enabling him to effect a lodgement in the outskirts of aristocracy; but he could not penetrate inland, so to speak, any more than foreign merchants can advance farther than to Canton, in the dominions of the Emperor of China.23 He was only tolerated in the regions of real rank and fashion—a fact of which he had a very galling consciousness; though it did not, apparently, disturb his equanimity, or interrupt the systematic and refined sycophancy by which alone he could secure his precarious position.
With some sad exceptions, I think that Great Britain has reason to be proud of her aristocracy. I do not speak now of those gaudy flaunting personages, of either sex, who, by their excesses or eccentricities, are eternally obtruding themselves, their manners, dress, and equipage, upon the offended ear and eye of the public; but of those who occupy their exalted sphere in simplicity, in calmness, and in unobtrusive dignity and virtue. I am no flatterer or idolater of the nobility. I have a profound sense of the necessity and advantage of the institution: but I shall ever pay its members, personally, an honest homage only, after a stern and keen scrutiny into their personal pretensions; thinking of them ever in the spirit of those memorable words of Scripture—"Unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required," and that not hereafter only, but HERE also. No one would visit their faults and follies with a more unsparing severity than I; yet making all just allowances for their peculiar perils and temptations, exposed, as they are, especially at the period of their entrance upon life, to sedulous and systematic sycophancy, too often also to artful and designing profligacy. Can, however, anything excite greater indignation and disgust in the mind of a thoughtful and independent observer than the instances occasionally exhibited of persons of rank presumptuously imagining that they enjoy a sort of prescriptive immunity from the consequences of misconduct? An insolent or profligate nobleman is a spectacle becoming every day more dangerous to exhibit in this country; of that he may be assured.
Such are my sentiments—those of a contented member of the middle classes, with whom are all his best and dearest sympathies, and who feels as stern a pride in his "Order," and determination to "stand by it" too, as ever was felt or avowed by the haughtiest aristocrat for his; of one who, with very little personal acquaintance with the aristocracy, has yet had opportunities of observing their conduct; and sincerely and cheerfully expresses his belief, that very, very many of them are worthy of all that they enjoy—are bright patterns of honor, generosity, loyalty, and virtue; that, indeed, of by far the greater proportion of them it may be said that they
"Have borne their faculties so meek—have been
So clear in their great office, that their virtues
Will plead like angels."
And finally, I say these are the sentiments of one who, if that Order were in jeopardy, would, with the immense majority of his brethren of the middle classes, freely shed his blood in defence of it: for its preservation is essential to the well-being of society, and its privileges are really ours.
To return, however, to the marquis. The means to which, as I have above explained, he resorted for the purpose, secured him a certain species of permanent popularity. In matters of dress and equipage, he could really set the fashion; and being something of a practical humorist, and desirous of frequent exhibitions of his influence in order to enhance his pretensions with his patrons—and being also greatly applauded and indulged by the tradespeople profiting by the vagaries of fashion, he was very capricious in the exercise of his influence. He seized the opportunity of the advent of my little hero, to display his powers very advantageously. He waved his wand over Titmouse, and instantly transformed a little ass into a great lion. 'Twas the marquis, who with his own hand had sketched off, from fancy, the portrait of Titmouse, causing it to be exhibited in almost every bookseller's shop-window. Well knew the marquis, that had he chosen to make his appearance once or twice in the parks, and leading streets and squares, in—for instance—the full and imposing evening costume of the clown at the theatre, with cunningly colored countenance, capacious white inexpressibles, and tasteful cap and jacket—within a few days' time several thousands of clowns would make their appearance about town, turning it into a vast pantomime. Could a more striking instance of the marquis's power in such matters have been exhibited, than that which had actually occurred in the case of Titmouse? Soon after the novel of Tippetiwink had rendered our friend an object of public interest, the marquis happened, somewhere or other, to catch a glimpse of the preposterous little ape. His keen eye caught all Titmouse's personal peculiarities at a glance; and a day or two afterwards he appeared in public, a sort of splendid edition of Titmouse—with quizzing-glass stuck in his eye and cigar in his mouth; taper ebony cane; tight surtout, with the snowy corner of a white handkerchief peeping out of the outside breast-pocket; hat with scarce any rim perched slantingly on his head; satin stock bespangled with inwrought gold flowers; shirt-collar turned down; and that inimitable strut of his!—'Twas enough; the thoughtful young men about town were staggered for a moment; but their senses soon returned. The marquis had stamped the thing with his fiat; and within three days' time, that bitter wag had called forth a flight of Titmice which would have reminded you, for a moment, of the visitation of locusts brought upon Egypt by Moses. Thus had been effected the state of things, recorded towards the close of the preceding chapter of this history. As soon as the marquis had seen a few of the leading fools about town fairly in the fashion, he resumed his former rigid simplicity of attire; and, accompanied by a friend or two in his confidence, walked about the town enjoying his triumph; witnessing his trophies—"Tittlebats" and "Titmouseties" filling the shop-windows on the week-days, and peopling the streets on Sundays. The marquis was not long in obtaining an introduction to the quaint little millionaire, whose reputation he had, conjointly with his distinguished friend Mr. Bladdery Pip, contributed so greatly to extend. Titmouse, who had often heard of him, looked upon him with inconceivable reverence, and accepted an invitation to one of the marquis's recherché Sunday dinners, with a sort of tremulous ecstasy. Thither on the appointed day he went accordingly, and, by his original humor, afforded infinite amusement to the marquis's other guests. 'Twas lucky for Titmouse that, getting dreadfully drunk very early in the evening, he was utterly incapacitated from accompanying his brilliant and good-natured host to one or two scenes of fashionable entertainment, in St. James's Street, as had been arranged between the marquis and a few of his friends!