ng
impudently asked by him if she knew the name of Tobit's dog, she
answered quickly, 'Yes, sir, his name was Nash, and a most impudent dog
he was too.'

It is due to Nash to state that he made many attempts to put an end to
the perpetual system of scandal, which from some hidden cause seems
always to be connected with mineral springs; but as he did not banish
the old maids, of course he failed. Of the young ladies and their
reputation he took a kind of paternal care, and in that day they seem to
have needed it, for even at nineteen, those who had any money to lose,
staked it at the tables with as much gusto as the wrinkled, puckered,
greedy-eyed 'single woman,' of a certain or uncertain age. Nash
protected and cautioned them, and even gave them the advantage of his
own unlimited experience. Witness, for instance, the care he took of
'Miss Sylvia,' a lovely heiress who brought her face and her fortune to
enslave some and enrich others of the loungers of Bath. She had a
terrible love of hazard, and very little prudence, so that Nash's good
offices were much needed in the case. The young lady soon became the
standing toast at all the clubs and suppers, and lovers of her, or her
ducats, crowded round her; but though at that time she might have made a
brilliant match, she chose, as young women will do, to fix her
affections upon one of the worst men in Bath, who, naturally enough, did
not return them. When this individual, as a climax to his misadventures,
was clapt into prison, the devoted young creature gave the greater part
of her fortune in order to pay off his debts, and falling into disrepute
from this act of generosity, which was, of course, interpreted after a
worldly fashion, she seems to have lost her honour with her fame, and
the fair Sylvia took a position which could not be creditable to her. At
last the poor girl, weary of slights, and overcome with shame, took her
silk sash and hanged herself. The terrible event made a nine
hours'--_not_ nine days'--sensation in Bath, which was too busy with
mains and aces to care about the fate of one who had long sunk out of
its circles.

When Nash reached the zenith of his power, the adulation he received was
somewhat of a parody on the flattery of courtiers. True, he had his
bards from Grub Street who sang his praises, and he had letters to show
from Sarah of Marlborough and others of that calibre, but his chief
worshippers were cooks, musicians, and even imprisoned hig