misfit for half the money; and Robert instantly pays a tribute to the title of the play by discovering a wrinkle—­equally an emblem of an “Old Maid” and an ill-fitting vest.  This incident shows us that Sir Philip is an amateur in dress; but his predilection is further developed by his exit, which is made to scold his goldsmith for the careless setting of a lost diamond.  The next scene takes us to the other side of Temple-bar; in fact, upon Ludgate-hill.  We are inside the shop of the goldsmith, Master Blount, most likely the founder of the firm now conducted by Messrs. Rundell and Bridge.  He has two sons, who, being brought up to the same trade, and always living together, are, of course, eternally quarrelling.  Both have a violent desire to cut the shop; the younger for glory, ambition, and all that (after the fashion of all city juveniles, who hate hard work), the elder for ease and elegance.  The papa and mamma have a slight altercation on the subject of their sons, which happily, (for family quarrels seldom amuse third parties) is put an end to by a second “shine,” brought about by the entrance of Sir Philip Brilliant, to make the threatened complaint about bad workmanship.  The younger and fiery Thomas Blount resents some of Sir P.B.’s expressions to his father; this is followed by the usual badinage about swords and their use.  We make up our minds that the next scene is to consist of a duel, and are not disappointed.

Sure enough a little rapier practice ends the act; the shopman is wounded, and his adversary takes the usual oath of being his sworn friend for ever.

The second act introduces a new class of incidents.  A great revolution has taken place in the private concerns of the family Blount. Thomas, the younger, has become a colonel in the army; John, having got possession of the shop, has sold the stock-in-trade, fixtures, good-will, &c.; doubtless, to the late Mr. Rundell’s great-grandfather; and has set up for a private gentleman.  For his introduction into genteel society he is indebted to Robert, whom he has mistaken for a Baronet, and who presents him to several of his fellow-knights of the shoulder-knot, all dubbed, for the occasion, lords and ladies, exactly as it happens in the farce of “High Life Below Stairs.”

But where are the “Old Maids” all this time?  Where, indeed! Lady Blanche and Lady Anne are young and beautiful—­exquisitely lovely; for they are played by Madame Vestris and Mrs. Nisbett.  It is clear, then, that directly they appear, the spectator assures himself that they are not the “Old Maids.”  To be sure they seem to have taken a sort of vow of celibacy; but their fascinating looks—­their beauty—­their enchanting manners, offer a challenge to the whole bachelor world, that would make the keeping of such a vow a crime next to sacrilege.  One does not tremble long on that account. Lady Blanche,