unday's dinner."

"If you talks to him about Memel and Dantzic, you'll find there ain't
such a judge of timber in London," said the father, who was evidently
proud of his son's mercantile qualifications; "but with regard to this
here pottery, and scupshire, and other things as I myself delights in,
he don't care nothin about 'em. He wouldn't give twopence to see
Stickleback's statty."

"Then he had better not have the honour," said Pitskiver. "Bristles,
you'll send it to Harley Street. First view is every thing."

"Really, gentlemen, you are both such exquisite judges of the arts,
and such discriminating patrons of artists, that I find it difficult
to determine between you. Shall we let Stickleback settle the point
himself?"

Both the Maecenases consented, each at the same time making resolutions
in his own mind to make the unhappy artist suffer, if by any chance
his rival should get the preference. After another glass or two of the
dark-coloured liquid which wore the label of port, and which Bristles
maintained was the richest wine he had ever tasted, as it was
furnished by a particular friend of his, who, in addition to being a
wine merchant, was one of the most talented men in Europe, and a
regular contributor to the _Universal_ under the signature
"Squirk,"--after another glass or two of this bepraised beverage,
which, at the same time, did not seem altogether to suit the taste of
the two patrons of the arts and sciences, the gentlemen adjourned to
the drawing-room, from which music had been sounding for a
considerable time.

CHAPTER IV.

On entering the room they were nearly made fitting inmates of the deaf
and dumb institution, by the most portentous sounds that ever
endangered a human ear. A large party was assembled, ranged solemnly
on chairs and sofas all round the wall, every eye turned with intense
interest to the upper end of the apartment, where stood a tall stout
man, blowing with incredible effect into a twisted horn, which, to all
outward appearance, had not long ceased to ornament the forehead of a
Highland bull. A common horn it was--and the skill of the
strong-winded performer consisted in extracting a succession of roars
and bellowings from its upper end, which would have done honour to the
vocal powers of its late possessor. A tune it certainly was, for
immense outbreaks of sound came at regular intervals, and the
performer kept thumping his foot on the floor as if he were keeping
tim