he social circle between-whiles
with recollections of divers splendid women who had been supposed to
entertain a passion for himself, several of whom he toasted by name,
taking occasion to remark at the same time that if he had been a little
more alive to his own interest, he might have been rolling at that
moment in his chariot-and-four. These reminiscences appeared to awaken
no very torturing pangs in the breast of Mrs Snevellicci, who was
sufficiently occupied in descanting to Nicholas upon the manifold
accomplishments and merits of her daughter. Nor was the young lady
herself at all behind-hand in displaying her choicest allurements; but
these, heightened as they were by the artifices of Miss Ledrook, had no
effect whatever in increasing the attentions of Nicholas, who, with the
precedent of Miss Squeers still fresh in his memory, steadily resisted
every fascination, and placed so strict a guard upon his behaviour that
when he had taken his leave the ladies were unanimous in pronouncing him
quite a monster of insensibility.

Next day the posters appeared in due course, and the public were
informed, in all the colours of the rainbow, and in letters afflicted
with every possible variation of spinal deformity, how that Mr Johnson
would have the honour of making his last appearance that evening, and
how that an early application for places was requested, in consequence
of the extraordinary overflow attendant on his performances,--it being
a remarkable fact in theatrical history, but one long since established
beyond dispute, that it is a hopeless endeavour to attract people to a
theatre unless they can be first brought to believe that they will never
get into it.

Nicholas was somewhat at a loss, on entering the theatre at night,
to account for the unusual perturbation and excitement visible in the
countenances of all the company, but he was not long in doubt as to the
cause, for before he could make any inquiry respecting it Mr Crummles
approached, and in an agitated tone of voice, informed him that there
was a London manager in the boxes.

'It's the phenomenon, depend upon it, sir,' said Crummles, dragging
Nicholas to the little hole in the curtain that he might look through at
the London manager. 'I have not the smallest doubt it's the fame of the
phenomenon--that's the man; him in the great-coat and no shirt-collar.
She shall have ten pound a week, Johnson; she shall not appear on the
London boards for a farthing