a few judicious panegyrics of
Hicks.

Hicks first burst upon the astonished world with poems, in the Byronic
manner: "The Death-Shriek," "The Bastard of Lara," "The Atabal," "The
Fire-Ship of Botzaris," and other works. His "Love Lays," in Mr. Moore's
early style, were pronounced to be wonderfully precocious for a young
gentleman then only thirteen, and in a commercial academy, at Tooting.

Subsequently, this great bard became less passionate and more
thoughtful; and, at the age of twenty, wrote "Idiosyncracy" (in forty
books, 4to.): "Ararat," "a stupendous epic," as the reviews said;
and "The Megatheria," "a magnificent contribution to our pre-Adamite
literature," according to the same authorities. Not having read these
works, it would ill become me to judge them; but I know that poor
Jingle, the publisher, always attributed his insolvency to the latter
epic, which was magnificently printed in elephant folio.

Hicks has now taken a classical turn, and has brought out "Poseidon,"
"Iacchus," "Hephaestus," and I dare say is going through the mythology.
But I should not like to try him at a passage of the Greek Delectus,
any more than twenty thousand others of us who have had a "classical
education."

Hicks was taken in an inspired attitude regarding the chandelier, and
pretending he didn't know that Miss Pettifer was looking at him.

Her name is Anna Maria (daughter of Higgs and Pettifer, solicitors,
Bedford Row); but Hicks calls her "Ianthe" in his album verses, and is
himself an eminent drysalter in the city.

MISS MEGGOT.

Poor Miss Meggot is not so lucky as Miss Bunion. Nobody comes to dance
with HER, though she has a new frock on, as she calls it, and rather a
pretty foot, which she always manages to stick out.

She is forty-seven, the youngest of three sisters, who live a mouldy old
house, near Middlesex Hospital, where they have lived for I don't know
how many score of years; but this is certain: the eldest Miss Meggot saw
the Gordon Riots out of that same parlor window, and tells the story
how her father (physician to George III.) was robbed of his queue in the
streets on that occasion. The two old ladies have taken the brevet rank,
and are addressed as Mrs. Jane and Mrs. Betsy: one of them is at whist
in the back drawing-room. But the youngest is still called Miss Nancy,
and is considered quite a baby by her sisters.

She was going to be married once to a brave young officer, Ensign Angus
Macquirk,