tunate. That picture of two companion dukes in Pall Mall is too
gorgeous for human eye to endure. A man would be scorched to cinders by
so much light, as he would be crushed by a sack of sovereigns even
though he might be allowed to have them if he could carry them away. But
there can be no doubt that a peer taken at random as a companion would
be preferable to a clerk from a counting-house,--taken at random. The
clerk might turn out a scholar on your hands, and the peer no better
than a poor spendthrift;--but the chances are the other way.

A tufthunter is a snob, a parasite is a snob, the man who allows the
manhood within him to be awed by a coronet is a snob. The man who
worships mere wealth is a snob. But so also is he who, in fear lest he
should be called a snob, is afraid to seek the acquaintance,--or if it
come to speak of the acquaintance,--of those whose acquaintance is
manifestly desirable. In all this I feel that Thackeray was carried
beyond the truth by his intense desire to put down what is mean.

It is in truth well for us all to know what constitutes snobbism, and I
think that Thackeray, had he not been driven to dilution and dilatation,
could have told us. If you will keep your hands from picking and
stealing, and your tongue from evil speaking, lying, and slandering, you
will not be a snob. The lesson seems to be simple, and perhaps a little
trite, but if you look into it, it will be found to contain nearly all
that is necessary.

But the excellence of each individual picture as it is drawn is not the
less striking because there may be found some fault with the series as a
whole. What can excel the telling of the story of Captain Shindy at his
club,--which is, I must own, as true as it is graphic. Captain Shindy is
a real snob. "'Look at it, sir; is it cooked? Smell it, sir. Is it meat
fit for a gentleman?' he roars out to the steward, who stands trembling
before him, and who in vain tells him that the Bishop of Bullocksmithy
has just had three from the same loin." The telling as regards Captain
Shindy is excellent, but the sidelong attack upon the episcopate is
cruel. "All the waiters in the club are huddled round the captain's
mutton-chop. He roars out the most horrible curses at John for not
bringing the pickles. He utters the most dreadful oaths because Thomas
has not arrived with the Harvey sauce. Peter comes tumbling with the
water-jug over Jeames, who is bringing the 'glittering canisters with