which went to the deuce, and he has the
greatest difficulty in living at all now. Does
Mrs. Fingerglass ever ask these unprosperous,
but virtuous, men Scalpel and Chopfall? Nay,
if you come to that, did she ever ask Vapours
till lately, and till his new spring coal-scuttle
won him notoriety?

The history of Vapours is rather a curious
one, he being at once a man of fashion and a
man of science. Some years ago, this anomalous
individual managed to perform so successfully
on wood and steel, as to produce a machine for
cleaning the roads, which not only won the
approval of government, but drew public
attention towards the inventor, and caused him
to be much sought after, and amiably dealt
with by all sorts of people. When this flush of
prosperity was his, he was naturally asked at
once to the "hospitable" mansion of the
Fingerglasses, where he was made much of, and where
a small model of his road-scraper, which he
presented to the Lady of the House, was, on
intimate occasions, used for sweeping the
crumbs off the table after dinner. Vapours
went through all the stages of feasting provided
by the house—from the banquet magnificent to
the chop familiar—during the whole season.
The next year he was let down altogether, not
gently, but with a fierce and startling bump.
His machine for cleaning the roads turned out
ill in the long run, being so full of cog-wheels
and main-springs, that the scavengers who
worked it were always getting it out of gear,
and such continual repairs became necessary,
that at last the engine fell into disuse, and the
name of Vapours into contempt. For several
years Vapours was unable to rally, but he
was working all the time, tilting the tea-kettle
lid perhaps, like James Watt, or in some
other way usefully employed. Meanwhile, he
was invited no more by the Fingerglasses, and
perhaps Sir Thomas Piston, the eminent
engineer, who was an habitué of the house, and
never approved of the presence of Vapours,
may have put a spoke in his wheel, and exposed
him as an unsuccessful man, and one not
thought much of in "the Profession." Piston
was an envious old impostor, and hated young
men, and everything that they did.

The particular young man named Vapours
was destined to become yet more odious than
ever in the eyes of Sir Thomas Piston. At the
commencement of a certain long winter, the
new spring coal-scuttle burst upon the public
and carried everything before it. It was a very
brilliant thing, this coal-scuttle. It was placed
in the side of the grate, and went up and down
a shaft into the kitchen for replenishment.
When you wanted more fuel on the fire, you
had only to touch a spring near the bell, and if
the scuttle were in good humour, a large supply
of coals was instantly discharged into the grate.
Sometimes, when the spring got out of order, the
fuel would be cast forth with violence into the
middle of the room, but this did not happen
often, and the invention was a great success,
and Vapours a great inventor.

Now, what does Mrs. Fingerglass do? How
once again can she get possession of this long-
neglected lion? She acts with shameless effrontery,
and, utterly ignoring years of neglect,
actually sends a message to Vapours through a
mutual friend, wishing to know "What she has
done that Vapours never goes near her; and if
he has not altogether forgotten the way to her
house, will he go and dine there, quite in a
friendly manner, next Saturday?"

And now that we have ascertained what Mrs.
Fingerglass does, let us next ask what Vapours
does? (I know him well, and he told me
himself all about it.) He went. He wanted change
after the deep thought involved in his recent
invention. He wanted to study the ways of the
household, and see whether they really were such,
false people as some said they were. Besides, he
was not going to bear malice. She was, after all,
a very "hospitable" woman. Yes, he would go.

The fact is, he wanted to go. He wanted
the silky luxury of the house. He wanted the
good dinners, and the especial dishes and wines,
for which this establishment was famous. He
wanted to be seen there once again; and, above
all, he longed after the praises and flattery which
his host and hostess knew well how to bestow.
Not a few of us are like this. Not a few clever
individuals may be twisted round in a moment
by delicate flatteries, and by such a mixed appeal
to the vanity and the stomach as is made to
those who frequent the Fingerglass establishment.
Such persons rave and storm while they
are neglected; laugh at the dupes who go to
this house to which they (the neglected ones)
are no longer invited; and curse the deceit and
humbug which are practised there.

Presently the scenes shift, and our neglected
friend gets up again in the social scale. To
begin with, he is in such good humour in
consequence of this circumstance, that he is ready
to be on good terms with everybody. He says:
"After all, the Fingerglasses have a right to
ask whom they like to their house. They can't
ask everybody. It may have been an accident
that they were so often not at home when I
called last year. The footman who made that
announcement in such a cut-and-dried manner
it may have been, after all, only his manner.
Mrs. Fingerglass certainly did not return my
salute in the Park; but then, have I not
continually heard her say that she is so dreadfully
short sighted that she can never see any one?"
[And here it is fair to remark, that persons
suffering from this infirmity are in the habit of
making it widely known that they are "so
blind," as they call it, possibly with a prophetic
eye to the future, and in order that they may
be able not to see you in the street, should
circumstances make it desirable.]

In seasons of prosperity, then, you are ready
to make large allowances for the offenders who
have treated you ill in adversity at least, such
are the sentiments of Mr. Vapours. That
gentleman is also of opinion that it is very pleasant
to be made a fuss with, and that there are some
people who put you on such good terms with