tershires for his estate in Burgundy. Pray, may I take the liberty of introducing his agent to you?"
Mr. Leverton was delighted.
"I also wanted to see you about some other little business. Let me see what was it. Never mind, I'll take my wine here, if you can make room for me; I shall remember it, I dare say, soon. Oh! by-the-bye—ah! that was it. Stapylton Toad—Mr. Stapylton Toad; I want to know all about Mr. Stapylton Toad—I dare say you can tell me. A friend of mine intends to consult him on a little parliamentary business, and he wishes to know something about him before he calls."
As I am a great lover of conciseness, I shall resumer,[1] for the benefit of the reader, the information of Mr. Leverton.
Stapylton Toad had not the honour of being
- ↑ I have ventured on using this word, in spite of the plaintive remonstrances contained in a pretty little article in the last Number of the Quarterly Review. I deprecate equally with the Reviewe "the hodge-podge of languages," now so much in vogue; and although I am not quite prepared to say that I consider this practice "as nauseous as wearing perfumes," I must exceedingly regret, that such an authority as the Quarterly Review, and so strenuous an advocate for "keeping our pure well of English undefiled," as this Quarterly Reviewer, should interlard his sentences with the tritest Latin quotations, with a classical enthusiasm worthy of a very young school-boy, or a very ancient school-master.
