d Chesterfield.'

He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in requisition.

'I thought I was tolerably accomplished as a man of the world,' he
continued, 'I flattered myself that I was pretty well versed in all
those little arts and graces which distinguish men of the world from
boors and peasants, and separate their character from those intensely
vulgar sentiments which are called the national character. Apart from
any natural prepossession in my own favour, I believed I was. Still, in
every page of this enlightened writer, I find some captivating hypocrisy
which has never occurred to me before, or some superlative piece of
selfishness to which I was utterly a stranger. I should quite blush for
myself before this stupendous creature, if remembering his precepts, one
might blush at anything. An amazing man! a nobleman indeed! any King or
Queen may make a Lord, but only the Devil himself--and the Graces--can
make a Chesterfield.'

Men who are thoroughly false and hollow, seldom try to hide those vices
from themselves; and yet in the very act of avowing them, they lay claim
to the virtues they feign most to despise. 'For,' say they, 'this is
honesty, this is truth. All mankind are like us, but they have not the
candour to avow it.' The more they affect to deny the existence of any
sincerity in the world, the more they would be thought to possess it in
its boldest shape; and this is an unconscious compliment to Truth on the
part of these philosophers, which will turn the laugh against them to
the Day of Judgment.

Mr Chester, having extolled his favourite author, as above recited,
took up the book again in the excess of his admiration and was composing
himself for a further perusal of its sublime morality, when he was
disturbed by a noise at the outer door; occasioned as it seemed by the
endeavours of his servant to obstruct the entrance of some unwelcome
visitor.

'A late hour for an importunate creditor,' he said, raising his eyebrows
with as indolent an expression of wonder as if the noise were in the
street, and one with which he had not the smallest possible concern.
'Much after their accustomed time. The usual pretence I suppose. No
doubt a heavy payment to make up tomorrow. Poor fellow, he loses time,
and time is money as the good proverb says--I never found it out though.
Well. What now? You know I am not at home.'

'A man, sir,' replied the servant, who was to the full as cool and
negligent in his