First, as to the opening. Suppose we
introduce the hero in his dressing-room. We have something of the kind
in Pelham; and if we can't copy his merits, we must his peculiarities.
Besides, it always is effective: a dressing-room or boudoir of supposed
great people, is admitting the vulgar into the arcana, which they
delight in.

_A._ Nothing can be better.

_B._ Then, as to time; as the hero is still in bed, suppose we say four
o'clock in the afternoon?

_A._ In the morning, you mean.

_B._ No; the afternoon. I grant you that fashionable young men in real
life get up much about the same time as other people; but in a
fashionable novel your real exclusive never rises early. The very idea
makes the tradesman's wife lift up her eyes. So begin. "It was about
thirty-three minutes after four, _post meridian_----"

_A._ Minute--to a minute!

_B._ "That the Honourable Augustus Bouverie's finely chiselled----"

_A._ Chiselled!

_B._ Yes; great people are always chiselled; common people are only
cast.--"Finely chiselled head was still recumbent upon his silk-encased
pillow. His luxuriant and Antinous-like curls were now confined in
_papillotes_ of the finest satin paper, and the _tout ensemble_ of his
head----"

_A._ _Tout ensemble!_

_B._ Yes; go on.--"Was gently compressed by a caul of the finest
net-work, composed of the threads spun from the beauteous production of
the Italian worm."

_A._ Ah! now I perceive--a silk nightcap. But why can't I say at once a
silk nightcap?

_B._ Because you are writing a fashionable novel.--"With the forefinger
of his gloved left hand----"

_A._ But he's not coming in from a walk--he's not yet out of bed.

_B._ You don't understand it.--"Gloved left hand he applied a gentle
friction to the portal of his right eye, which unclosing at the silent
summons, enabled him to perceive a repeater studded with brilliants, and
ascertain the exact minute of time, which we have already made known to
the reader, and at which our history opens."

_A._ A very grand opening indeed!

_B._ Not more than it ought to be for a fashionable novel.--"At the
sound of a silver _clochette_, his faithful Swiss valet Coridon, who had
for some time been unperceived at the door, waiting for some notice of
his master, having thrown off the empire of Somnus, in his light pumps,
covered with beaver, moved with noiseless step up to the bedside, like
the advance of eve stealing over the face of nature."

_A._