e Bank. A few successful
speculations had raised him from a situation of obscurity and comparative
poverty, to a state of affluence. As frequently happens in such cases,
the ideas of himself and his family became elevated to an extraordinary
pitch as their means increased; they affected fashion, taste, and many
other fooleries, in imitation of their betters, and had a very decided
and becoming horror of anything which could, by possibility, be
considered low. He was hospitable from ostentation, illiberal from
ignorance, and prejudiced from conceit. Egotism and the love of display
induced him to keep an excellent table: convenience, and a love of good
things of this life, ensured him plenty of guests. He liked to have
clever men, or what he considered such, at his table, because it was a
great thing to talk about; but he never could endure what he called
'sharp fellows.' Probably, he cherished this feeling out of compliment
to his two sons, who gave their respected parent no uneasiness in that
particular. The family were ambitious of forming acquaintances and
connexions in some sphere of society superior to that in which they
themselves moved; and one of the necessary consequences of this desire,
added to their utter ignorance of the world beyond their own small
circle, was, that any one who could lay claim to an acquaintance with
people of rank and title, had a sure passport to the table at Oak Lodge,
Camberwell.

The appearance of Mr. Horatio Sparkins at the assembly, had excited no
small degree of surprise and curiosity among its regular frequenters.
Who could he be? He was evidently reserved, and apparently melancholy.
Was he a clergyman?--He danced too well. A barrister?--He said he was
not called. He used very fine words, and talked a great deal. Could he
be a distinguished foreigner, come to England for the purpose of
describing the country, its manners and customs; and frequenting public
balls and public dinners, with the view of becoming acquainted with high
life, polished etiquette, and English refinement?--No, he had not a
foreign accent. Was he a surgeon, a contributor to the magazines, a
writer of fashionable novels, or an artist?--No; to each and all of these
surmises, there existed some valid objection.--'Then,' said everybody,
'he must be _somebody_.'--'I should think he must be,' reasoned Mr.
Malderton, within himself, 'because he perceives our superiority, and
pays us so much attention.'