were invited to be present
at the display. Among these last shone our friend Mr Pitskiver,
radiant in white waistcoat and gold chains, two rings on each finger,
and a cameo the size of a cheese-cake on his neckcloth. The other
critic, in right of his account at the bank, was a tall silent
gentleman, a wood-merchant from the Boro', who nodded his head in an
oracular manner when any thing was said above his comprehension; and
who was a patron of rising talent, on the same enlightened principles
as his friend Mr Pitskiver. Mr Whalley also showed his patronage in
the same economical manner as the other, and expected immortality at
the expense of a few roasts of beef and bottles of new wine.

Mr Bristles was also of the dinner party--an arrangement made by the
provident Miss Hendy, that the two _millionaires_ might receive a
little preliminary information on the merits of the rest of the
company, who were only invited to tea. Four maiden ladies (who had
pulled on blue stockings in order to hide the increasing thickness of
their ankles, and considered Miss Hendy the legitimate successor of
Madame de Stael, and Mr Pitskiver in Harley Street the beau-ideal of
love in a cottage) relieved the monotony of a gentleman party by as
profuse a display of female charms as low gowns and short sleeves
would allow. And about six o'clock there was a highly interesting and
superior party of eight, to whom Miss Hendy administered cod's-head
and shoulders, aphorisms and oyster sauce, in almost equal proportion;
while Mr Pitskiver, like a "sweet seducer, blandly smiling," made
polite enquiries whether he should not relieve her of the
trouble.--"Oh no!--it degrades woman from the lofty sphere of equal
usefulness with the rougher sex. Why shouldn't a lady help fish?--Why
should she confess her inferiority? The post assigned to her by
nature--though usurped by man--is to elevate by her example, to
enlighten by her precepts, and to add to the great aggregate of human
felicity by a manifestation of all the virtues;" saying this, she
inserted her knife with astonishing dexterity just under the
gills--and looked round for approbation.

Mr Pitskiver had recourse to his usual expedient, and said something
about the feast of reason; Mr Whalley shook his head in a way that
would have made his fortune in a grocer's window in the character of
Howqua; and Mr Bristles prepared himself to reply--while the four
literary maidens turned their eyes on Aristarch