g a free vein of
raillery at the expense of the ladies, stumbled upon that expression
of the poet, which calls them "fair defects."

_1st Lady_. It is Pope, I believe, who says it.

_Mr. H_. No, Madam; Milton. Where was I? Oh, "fair defects." This
gave occasion to a critic in company, to deliver his opinion on the
phrase--that led to an enumeration of all the various words which
might have been used instead of "defect," as want, absence, poverty,
deficiency, lack. This moment I, who had not been attending to the
progress of the argument (as the denouement will show) starting
suddenly up out of one of my reveries, by some unfortunate connection
of ideas, which the last fatal word had excited, the devil put it
into my head to turn round to the Nabob, who was sitting next me, and
in a very marked manner (as it seemed to the company) to put the
question to him, Pray, sir, what may be the exact value of a lack of
rupees? You may guess the confusion which followed.

_1st Lady_. What a distressing circumstance!

_2d Lady_. To a delicate mind----

_3d Lady_. How embarrassing----

_4th Lady_. I declare, I quite pity you.

_1st Gent_. Puppy!

_Mr. H_. A Baronet at the table, seeing my dilemma, jogged my elbow;
and a good-natured Duchess, who does everything with a grace peculiar
to herself, trod on my toes at that instant: this brought me to
myself, and--covered with blushes, and pitied by all the ladies--I
withdrew.

_1st Lady_. How charmingly he tells a story.

_2nd Lady_. But how distressing!

_Mr. H_. Lord Squandercounsel, who is my particular friend, was
pleased to rally me in his inimitable way upon it next day. I shall
never forget a sensible thing he said on the occasion--speaking of
absence of mind, my foible--says he, my dear Hogs--

_Several Ladies_. Hogs--what--ha--

_Mr. H_. My dear Hogsflesh--my name--(_here a universal scream_)--O my
cursed unfortunate tongue! H. I mean--where was I?

_1st Lady_. Filthy--abominable!

_2nd Lady_. Unutterable!

_3rd Lady_. Hogs--foh!

_4th Lady_. Disgusting!

_5th Lady_. Vile!

_6th Lady_. Shocking!

_1st Lady_. Odious!

_2nd Lady_. Hogs--pah!

_3rd Lady_. A smelling-bottle--look to Miss Melesinda. Poor thing! it
is no wonder. You had better keep off from her, Mr. Hogsflesh, and
not be pressing about her in her circumstances.

_1st Gent_. Good time of day to you, Mr.Hogsflesh.

_2nd Gent_. The compliments of the season to you, Mr. Hogsflesh.

_Mr.