no more refuse to make one at the table, than, among a set of hard drinkers, he would object to drinking his glass in turn, because he is not dry. We shall leave the reader to fix the division to which the Squire belonged, and shall only add to this article, that he was as great a man at Newmarket, as even his booby brother, Tony Lumpkin, was at the sign of The Three Blue Pigeons.

The noble and elegant science of boxing, as it afforded another source of betting, was not neglected. Whoever knows any thing of these brutal exhibitions, which are a direct infringement of the laws, and the focus of attraction of all the wandering pickpockets, swindlers, highwaymen and ruffians, that can be poured forth from the stews, garrets, cellars, or prisons, of London, to the great detriment of those persons who live on the roads leading to the scenes of action, and who are put under contribution to defray the travelling expences of these miscreants; whoever knows any thing of these matters must think, that the Squire despised such a trifle as character, from his sanctioning these meetings by his presence. He, however,

exhibited the degrading spectacle, till a contest, at which he was present, terminated in the death of one of the combatants. This catastrophe had such an effect upon his fine feelings, as to make him resolve never to be present at another. It was a pity that he did not discover a similar regard to public opinion and decency, and a similar resolution in discarding his other bad habits.

The Squire was also allowed to be so ardent a worshipper of Bacchus, as to be dignified by his brother Bacchanalians, with the glorious appellation of a six-bottle-man, that is to say, one who can make such a tun of his corporation, as to carry off six bottles of wine at one sitting. His head, however, was not the strongest, as one or two among them could boast of being nine-bottle-men, an honour to which the Squire, notwithstanding all his emulation, could never attain. Drunkenness, if not in itself a crime, yet is the parent of the worst of crimes.-An eastern apologue tells a story that a young man, who had bound himself to obey a single command of the Devil, in return for his assistance, was enjoined either to kill his father, lie with

his sister, or get drunk. He made choice of the latter, as the least evil of the three; but, in the hour of intoxication, he perpetrated the other two. It is a good custom among the Turks, (and it would not be the worse if it originated in delicacy instead of superstition,) whenever they intend to inebriate themselves with the juice of the grape, to retire to the most private recesses of their gardens or seraglios, that their folly might not be exposed to the eyes of their neighbours; but in Christian countries, the worshippers of Bacchus perform their rites and ceremonies in the most open and unblushing manner, even at the corporation feasts, churchwarden, and other meetings of the sober and industrious citizens, who think they may be allowed at certain intervals to lay aside the reason of man. The Squire was once invited with his next brother (Frederic) to an entertainment given by the principal persons among the tenantry; and the Squire, although such company was entirely out of his latitude, thought proper to honour the invitation. Interest will do more than draw a man to a feast; it will even keep him

from one. After a while, the exhilarating juice began to give unequivocal symptoms of its potency, in subduing the human reason in proportion as it increases the animal spirits. The Squire, under one of these impulses, made some violent gestures, and broke a sconce, which was suspended directly over his own; on which his brother exclaimed, "That's right, go it, Georgy, my boy." Georgy did go it till he got (according to the vulgar idiom) most princely drunk, and measured all his glory on the floor. His brother, standing over him exultingly, said: "There lie the hopes of our family!"

A hopeful brood, Mr. Author!

I think so, indeed, Mr. Reader; for you must know that Master Frederic had an equal, if not a more ardent passion for ame's ace and seven's the main, than his brother, as we shall have occasion to mention in its proper place.

It will be impossible to follow the Squire throughout his [progress in the modern arts and sciences, unless the Reader will good-naturedly

allow us to adopt the manner of the drama, and change scenes as often as occasion may require. As this has been universally allowed to be the best mode, not only of inculcating virtuous examples and principles, but also of exhibiting vice in all its horrid deformity, we shall presume upon the reader's acquiescence, and give some dramatic sketches in three or four of the succeeding chapters.