his business with that gentleman, which was of a literary nature, namely, a joint composition against a man who, being under five-and-twenty, and too poor to give dinners, had had the impudence to write a sacred poem. The critics were exceedingly bitter at this; and having very little to say against the poem, the Court journals called the author 'a coxcomb,' and the liberal ones 'the son of a pantaloon!'
There was an ease,—a spirit,—a life about Mr. Augustus Tomlinson, which captivated the senses of our young hero: then, too, he was exceedingly smartly attired; wore red heels and a bag; had what seemed to Paul quite the air of a 'man of fashion;' and, above all, he spouted the Latin with a remarkable grace!
Some days afterwards, Mac Grawler sent our hero to Mr. Tomlinson's lodgings, with his share of the joint abuse upon the poet.
Doubly was Paul's reverence for Mr. Augustus Tomlinson increased by a sight of his abode. He found him settled in a polite part of the town, in a very spruce parlour, the contents of which manifested the universal genius of the inhabitant. It hath
