d the poor tradesman a SNOB.

'I am hungry,' said Ferdinand. 'Can I get anything to eat at this damned
place?'

'What would you like, sir? Anything you choose, sir. Mutton chop, rump
steak, weal cutlet? Do you a fowl in a quarter of an hour; roast or
boiled, sir?'

'I have not breakfasted yet; bring me some breakfast.'

'Yes, sir,' said the little waiter. 'Tea, sir? Coffee, eggs, toast,
buttered toast, sir? Like any meat, sir? Ham, sir? Tongue, sir? Like a
devil, sir?'

'Anything, everything, only be quick.'

'Yes, sir,' responded the waiter. 'Beg pardon, sir. No offence, I hope,
but custom to pay here, sir. Shall be happy to accommodate you, sir.
Know what a gentleman is.'

'Thank you, I will not trouble you,' said Ferdinand; 'get me that note
changed.'

'Yes, sir,' replied the little waiter, bowing very low as he
disappeared.

'Gentleman in best drawing-room wants breakfast. Gentleman in best
drawing-room wants change for a ten-pound note. Breakfast immediately
for gentleman in best drawing-room. Tea, coffee, toast, ham, tongue, and
a devil. A regular nob!'

Ferdinand was so exhausted that he had postponed all deliberation as to
his situation until he had breakfasted; and when he had breakfasted,
he felt dull. It is the consequence of all meals. In whatever light
he viewed his affairs, they seemed inextricable. He was now in a
spunging-house; he could not long remain here, he must be soon in a
gaol. A gaol! What a bitter termination of all his great plans and
hopes! What a situation for one who had been betrothed to Henrietta
Temple! He thought of his cousin, he thought of her great fortune,
which might have been his. Perhaps at this moment they were all riding
together in the Park. In a few days all must be known to his father. He
did not doubt of the result. Armine would immediately be sold, and
his father and mother, with the wretched wreck of their fortune, would
retire to the Continent. What a sad vicissitude! And he had done it all;
he, their only child, their only hope, on whose image they had lived,
who was to restore the house. He looked at the bars of his windows, it
was a dreadful sight. His poor father, his fond mother, he was quite
sure their hearts would break. They never could survive all this misery,
this bitter disappointment of all their chopes. Little less than a year
ago and he was at Bath, and they were all joy and triumph. What a wild
scene had his life been since! O Henrietta! why