simple-hearted—the most innocent of mankind. Can there be a more powerful, a more beautiful evidence of the philanthropic confidence of human nature, than that every day exhibited by the fashionable London tradesman? What practical benevolence is constantly displayed by the tailor, who, with the vaguest notions of the station and means of his customer-provided the future Debtor come to him in a coat of unexceptionable character -clothes the son of Adam from the shoulders to the heels! He, the tailor-the future despised, abused Creditor-puts no prying query, hesitates no frigid doubt; but with a sweet alacrity pleasant to behold, and grateful to contemplate, measures his man, and is forthwith doomed! Nevertheless, is not this a pleasing picture? To the libellous, carking cynic, who sneers and spits at human nature, should not this be a lesson of charity -a great moral teaching? Here is practical philanthropy— here the kindliest operation of the social virtues; when a man -his face steeped with satisfaction, his words words of honey, and his whole demeanour that of subdued felicity-straightway gives a portion of his goods to the stranger within his parlour; to a man he has never seen before, and whom it is more than likely he may never see or hear of again.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Rigid, a most punctilious gentleman-a man of all the proprieties, that of ready money included-" Good heavens, Augustus ! why, yes—you have only been a twelvemonth in London, and you already owe three thousand pounds. Explain, sir-how came this about? Explain, sir; I command you."

Only three thousand? " asked young Rigid.

"Only! and how dare you owe so much-how dare you get into debt?"

"Upon my soul, father," answered Augustus, "I couldn't help it ;-it was so devilish easy!"

Many a fine young fellow, condemned to the limited area of St. George's Fields, has bitter cause of complaint against the Creditor; whose innocence, whose unsuspicious nature, and unsophisticated determination to become what he is, has compelled the young gentleman to take advantage of suffering goodness; the temptation was too strong for the resolution of youth, and the willing tradesman became a Creditor. If the reader conceive that we paint the Creditor in too amiable colours; if he doubt the exceeding benevolence of fashionable tradesmen towards the dashing destitute, let him wear out a day or so in any office of police, and have his soul instructed. He will there perceive that of all animals the fashionable tradesman, the incipient Creditor, is easiest to be taken: no

eider-duck suffers itself to be despoiled of its down with less resistance.

However, ere we quit the fashionable tradesman, we must do this justice to his natural and improved acuteness. He is not to be taken by shabby appearance. He is a fish that bites only at the finest flies. It is, therefore, highly essential that the wouldbe Debtor should appear before him bearing all the external advantages of Mammon. Then will the tradesman open his

books to the stranger, and rejoice in his orders.

As a man is known by his associates, so we think may the character of the Creditor be known by his attorney: the sharp employ the sharp.

Mr. Macwriggle (we write a bit of real life) was a small tradesman, and had given credit to John Junks; the debt was demanded, sued for, and resisted. The cause came into court, and Macwriggle, for once having full justice on his side, was flushed with the confidence of victory. Already he felt the Evidence was called

amount of the bill jingling in his pocket. to prove the delivery of the goods: nothing could be more plain -the delivery was certain: but what was the astonishment of Mr. Macwriggle to find witnesses in the box who, without prevarication, swore to being present at the payment of Junks's bill; Macwriggle having solemnly promised to forward a receipt for the same! Macwriggle passed with the world for a religious man; therefore, thinking of his bill and costs, he stood in a cold sweat listening to the perjury of his fellow-creatures. The cause was soon over-verdict for the defendant. Mr. Crooks was the adroit attorney for John Junks; and it was about eleven o'clock on the morning following the trial, when Mr. Crooks, seated in all legal serenity in his private room, was visited by the hapless plaintiff, Andrew Macwriggle.

"Your name is just Crooks?" asked Macwriggle, and the attorney, with slight dignity, bowed.

"My name is Macwriggle;" and the bearer of the name paused.

"Oh! indeed," observed Mr. Crooks.

It appears, sir, that you were the attorney in the case of that infernal scoundrel

"I beg your pardon, sir," said Crooks, "I know no scoundrels as clients."

"No matter for that," said Andrew, Junks?"

"I had that honour," replied Crooks.

"you acted for John

Macwriggle advanced into the middle of the room, and clenching his fist, and casting his eyes towards a top row of "The

Abridgment of the Statutes," he began, almost at a scream,"If there was ever a scoundrel, if there was ever a villain-a thief-a pickpocket

"Really, sir," said Crooks, rather uncertain as to whom Macwriggle applied the epithets, and not quite convinced that Andrew had not a horsewhip under his coat, "I cannot suffer this abuse. I insist, Mr. Macwriggle—”

"But no, sir," said Andrew, in a composed tone, and smiling, "that's not what I came for. Mr. Crooks, you were the attorney for Junks; you conducted his case; you know how it was got up."

"I conducted his case,” said Mr. Crooks; "and what, sir, do you wish to say to me?"

"This, sir," answered Macwriggle; "that you're just the very man I've been looking for all my life: here's all my papers-all my business for the man who could get off Junks, is the very man for Andrew Macwriggle's attorney."

We have said it; the sharp employ the sharp. Verily, a man is known by his attorney.

THE LION" OF A PARTY.

A SUBTLE Italian, no less a man than the Count Pecchio, has called London "the grave of great reputations." In simple, prosaic phrase, this, our glorious metropolis is-a vast cemetery for "Lions!" They are whelped every season; and, frail and evanescent as buttercups, they every season die: that is, they do not die body and bones, but have a most cutaneous and depilatory disorder—a mortality that goes skin-deep, and little more— a disease that strips them of their hide, and tail, and mane; yea, that makes the very "Lions" that, but a few months since, shook whole coteries with the thunder of their voices, roar as "gently as any sucking doves." The ferocious dignity of the "Lion" in fine condition—the grimness of his smile the lashing might of his muscular tail-all the grand and terrible attributes of the leonine nature pass away with the season-he is no longer a thing of wonder, a marvellously-gifted creature, at which

but a mere biped-simply, a human animall—a man, and nothing more! He walks and talks unwatched amid a crowd; and spinsters who, but a year before, would have scarcely suppressed “a short, shrill shriek" at his approach, let him pass with an easy and familiar nod-it may be, even with a nod of patronage: or, if it happen that they remember his merits of the past season, they speak of them with the same philosophical coldness with which they would touch upon the tail and ears of a long-departed spaniel.

It is a sad thing for a "Lion" to outlive his majesty ; to survive his nobler attributes,-it may be, lost to him in the very prime of life, thus leaving him bereft of all life's graces. And yet, how many men-"Lions once, with flowing manes, and tails of wondrous length and strength-have almost survived even the recollection of their leonine greatness, and, conforming

to the meekness and sobriety of tame humanity, might pass for nobodies.

Being desirous of furnishing the reader with the most full and particular account of the growth and death of the “Lion” of a Party, from the earliest appearance of his mane-from the first note of promissory thunder in his voice-carrying him through the affecting glories of his too short triumph, until every hair fell from his sinewy neck, his voice broke, and his tail—a thing that had been admired by countesses—was thin, and limp as any threadpaper: being, indeed, most anxious to lay before the reader a truly philosophical account of the emotions of the “Lion,” varying with his rise and fall, we wrote a letter, explanatory of our object, to a gentleman-now a clergyman, late a “Lion”-in every way qualified to instruct and delight the reader on the important theme; and beg leave, on the part of our subscribers and ourselves, to acknowledge the spirit of courtesy and promptitude manifested in the subjoined communication-as we conceive, the very model of an epistle, albeit the publisher has his own opinion on the style of its conclusion :—

Mr. Editor-In reply to your flattering communication, I have to announce to you my readiness to serve you, and instruct your very numerous readers, on the terms herein subscribed; and shall, of course, consider the insertion of this letter in your inestimable publication-(I have not yet seen the first number, it having unluckily fallen into the hands of Lambskin, a most respectable attorney of this village, who, in a fit of indignation, consigned it to the flames, for, as he said, "the unprovoked, unprincipled, and atrocious libel contained in 'The Lawyer's Clerk,' on a profession involving the dearest interests of mankind-a profession that, &c. &c. &c.")-I shall, I say, consider the insertion of this letter as an acquiescence in what I trust will appear a very trifling remuneration, which, as the money is to be expended on charitable objects, it will, I trust, be forwarded to me as above without one minute's delay.*

*We may be wrong; our memory may deceive us; but when we were sub-sub sub-editor to "The Gimcrack," the fashionable annual, which admitted no contributor under the rank of baronet, we think we are pretty sure we could almost swear-nay, we are ready to take our oaththat we have seen, generally in the form of postscript, the very words put in emphatic italic by our contributor from Satansfield, in the maiden'sblush notes, of at least three of the nobility-the literary props and jewels