Places to give away, and you find that your
Velvet Coat shows the Cord! 'Tis in these Emergencies that the brave
Confidence of the Tailor is distilled over us like the Blessed Dew from
Heaven; for Trust, when it is really needed, and opportunely comes, is
Real Mercy and a Holy Thing.

About my master's Wealth there was no doubt. Lord Poddle, although a
questionable cousin of his, would have been glad to possess his spurious
kinsman's acres. I should put down the young Esquire's income as at
least Twenty Hundred Pounds a year. His Father had been, it cannot be
questioned, a Warm Man; but I should like to know, if he was veritably,
as his Son essayed to make out, a Gentleman, how he came to live in
Honey-Lane Market, hard by Cheapside. Gentlemen don't live in Honey-Lane
Market. 'Tis in Bloomsbury, or Soho, or Lincoln's Inn, or in the parish
of St. George, Hanover Square, that the real Quality have their
habitations. I shall be told next that Gentlefolks should have their
mansions by the Bun-House at Pimlico, or in the Purlieus of Tyburn
Turnpike. No; 'twas at the sign of the Sleeveboard, in Honey-Lane
Market, that our Patrician Squire made his money. The estate at
Hampstead was a very fair one, lying on the North side, Highgate way.
Mr. Pinchin's Mamma, a Rare City Dame, had a Life Interest in the
property, and, under the old Gentleman's will, had a Right to a Whole
Sum of Ten Thousand Pounds if she married again. Thus it was that young
Bartholomew was always in an agony of Terror to learn that his mamma had
been seen walking on a Sunday afternoon in Gray's-Inn Gardens, or taking
Powdered Beef and Ratafia at the tavern in Flask Walk, or drinking of
Syllabubs at Bellasise; and by every post he expected to hear the
dreadful intelligence that Madam Pinchin had been picked up as a City
Fortune by some ruffling Student of the Inns of Court, some Irish
Captain, or some smart Draper that, on the strength of a new Periwig and
a lacquered hilt to his Sword, passes for a Macarony. 'Tis not very
romantic to relate, but 'tis no less a fact, that the Son and the Mother
hated one another. You who have gone through the World and watched it,
know that these sad unnatural loathings between Parents and Children,
after the latter are grown up, are by no means uncommon. To me it seems
almost impossible that Estrangement and Dislike--nay, absolute
Aversion--should ever engender between the Mother and the Daughter, that
as a Babe hath hung on