other 'illustrious obscure,' and I had given up the
day for lost, when in dropped Jack Taylor of the _Sun_--(who would dare
to deny that he was 'the Sun of our table'?)--and I had nothing now to
do but hear and laugh. Mr. Taylor knows most of the good things that
have been said in the metropolis for the last thirty years, and is in
particular an excellent retailer of the humours and extravagances of his
old friend Peter Pindar. He had recounted a series of them, each rising
above the other in a sort of magnificent burlesque and want of literal
preciseness, to a medley of laughing and sour faces, when on his
proceeding to state a joke of a practical nature by the said Peter, a
Mr. ----- (I forget the name) objected to the moral of the story, and to
the whole texture of Mr. Taylor's facetiae--upon which our host, who had
till now supposed that all was going on swimmingly, thought it time
to interfere and give a turn to the conversation by saying, 'Why, yes,
gentlemen, what we have hitherto heard fall from the lips of our friend
has been no doubt entertaining and highly agreeable in its way; but
perhaps we have had enough of what is altogether delightful and pleasant
and light and laughable in conduct. Suppose, therefore, we were to shift
the subject, and talk of what is serious and moral and industrious and
laudable in character--Let us talk of Mr. Tomkins the Penman!'--This
staggered the gravest of us, broke up our dinner-party, and we went
upstairs to tea. So much for the didactic vein of one of our
principal guides in the embellished walks of modern taste, and
master manufacturers of letters. He had found that gravity had been
a never-failing resource when taken at a pinch--for once the joke
miscarried--and Mr. Tomkins the Penman figures to this day nowhere but
in Sir Joshua's picture of him!

To complete the natural Aristocracy of Letters, we only want a Royal
Society of Authors!

NOTES to ESSAY V

(1) Lord Holland had made a diary (in the manner of Boswell) of the
conversation held at his house, and read it at the end of a week _pro
bono publico._ Sir James Mackintosh made a considerable figure in it,
and a celebrated poet none at all, merely answering Yes and No. With
this result he was by no means satisfied, and talked incessantly from
that day forward. At the end of the week he asked, with some anxiety and
triumph, If his Lordship had continued his diary, expecting himself
to shine in 'the first row of t