his "own book," may be
made acquainted with the best means of ornamenting his own, or disfiguring
a policeman's, person--how to conduct himself at the dinner-table, or at
the bar of Bow-street--how to turn a compliment to a lady, or carry on a
chaff with a cabman.

These are high and noble objects! A wider field for social elevation cannot
well be imagined. Our plan embraces the enlightenment and refinement of
every scion of a noble house, and all the junior clerks in the government
offices--from the happy recipient of an allowance of 50L per month from
"the Governor," to the dashing acceptor of a salary of thirty shillings a
week from a highly-respectable house in the City--from the gentleman who
occupies a suite of apartments in the Clarendon, to the lodger in the
three-pair back, in an excessively back street at Somers Town.

With these incentives, we will proceed at once to our great and glorious
task, confident that our exertions will be appreciated, and obtain for us
an introduction into the best circles.

PRELUDE.

We trust that our polite readers will commence the perusal of our pages
with a pleasure equal to that which we feel in sitting down to write them;
for they call up welcome recollections of those days (we are literary and
seedy now!) when our coats emanated from the laboratory of Stultz, our
pantaloons from Buckmaster, and our boots from Hoby, whilst our glossy
beaver--now, alas! supplanted by a rusty goss--was fabricated by no less a
thatcher than the illustrious Moore. They will remind us of our Coryphean
conquests at the Opera--our triumphs in Rotten row--our dinners at Long's
and the Clarendon--our nights at Offley's and the watch-house--our glorious
runs with the Beaufort hounds, and our exhilarating runs from the sheriffs'
officers--our month's sporting on the heathery moors, and our day rule when
rusticating in the Bench!

We are in "the sear and yellow leaf"--there is nothing green about us now!
We have put down our seasoned hunter, and have mounted the winged Pegasus.
The brilliant Burgundy and sparkling Hock no longer mantle in our glass;
but Barclay's beer--nectar of gods and coalheavers--mixed with
hippocrene--the Muses' "cold without"--is at present our only beverage. The
grouse are by us undisturbed in their bloomy mountain covert. We are now
content to climb Parnassus and our garret stairs. The Albany, that
sanctuary of erring bachelors, with its guardian beadle, are to us but
memor