aring. These lucubrations being of
what he called 'a warm complexion,' were highly approved; and all the
company agreed that they were full of point.

'Men of the world, my dear sir,' Jobling whispered to Jonas; 'thorough
men of the world! To a professional person like myself it's
quite refreshing to come into this kind of society. It's not only
agreeable--and nothing CAN be more agreeable--but it's philosophically
improving. It's character, my dear sir; character!'

It is so pleasant to find real merit appreciated, whatever its
particular walk in life may be, that the general harmony of the company
was doubtless much promoted by their knowing that the two men of the
world were held in great esteem by the upper classes of society, and
by the gallant defenders of their country in the army and navy, but
particularly the former. The least of their stories had a colonel in it;
lords were as plentiful as oaths; and even the Blood Royal ran in the
muddy channel of their personal recollections.

'Mr Chuzzlewit didn't know him, I'm afraid,' said Wolf, in reference to
a certain personage of illustrious descent, who had previously figured
in a reminiscence.

'No,' said Tigg. 'But we must bring him into contact with this sort of
fellows.'

'He was very fond of literature,' observed Wolf.

'Was he?' said Tigg.

'Oh, yes; he took my paper regularly for many years. Do you know he
said some good things now and then? He asked a certain Viscount, who's
a friend of mine--Pip knows him--"What's the editor's name, what's the
editor's name?" "Wolf." "Wolf, eh? Sharp biter, Wolf. We must keep the
Wolf from the door, as the proverb says." It was very well. And being
complimentary, I printed it.'

'But the Viscount's the boy!' cried Pip, who invented a new oath for
the introduction of everything he said. 'The Viscount's the boy! He came
into our place one night to take Her home; rather slued, but not much;
and said, "Where's Pip? I want to see Pip. Produce Pip!"--"What's the
row, my lord?"--"Shakspeare's an infernal humbug, Pip! What's the good
of Shakspeare, Pip? I never read him. What the devil is it all about,
Pip? There's a lot of feet in Shakspeare's verse, but there an't any
legs worth mentioning in Shakspeare's plays, are there, Pip? Juliet,
Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and all the rest of 'em, whatever their names
are, might as well have no legs at all, for anything the audience know
about it, Pip. Why, in that respect they're al