From thence I went to Lady Bloom's,
Where, after sundry rings and knocking,
A yawning, liveried lad appear'd,
His squalid face his gay clothes mocking
I asked him, in a faltering tone--
The house was closed--I guess'd the reason--
"Is Lady B.'s grand-aunt, then, gone?"--
"To Ramsgate, sir!--until next season!"

I sauntered on to Harry Gray's,
The _ennui_ of my heart to lighten;
His landlady, with, smirk and smile,
Said, "he had just run down to Brighton."
When home I turned my steps, at last,
A tailor--whom to kick were treason--
Pressed for his bill;--I hurried past,
Politely saying--CALL NEXT SEASON!

* * * * *


THE GENTLEMAN'S OWN BOOK.

We concluded our last article with a brief dissertation on the cut of the
trousers; we will now proceed to the consideration of coats.

"The hour must come when such things must be made."

For this quotation we are indebted to