“I’m in low sperits.  A disagreeable insadent has just occurred.  Lady Pump, the banker’s wife, asked me to dinner.  I sat on her right, of course, with an uncommon gal ner me, with whom I was getting on in my fassanating way—­full of lacy ally (as the Marquis says) and easy plesntry.  Old Pump, from the end of the table, asked me to drink shampane; and on turning to tak the glass I saw Charles Wackles (with womb I’d been imployed at Colonel Spurriers’ house) grinning over his shoulder at the butler.

“The beest reckonised me.  Has I was putting on my palto in the hall, he came up again:  ‘How Dy doo, Jeames?’ says he, in a findish visper.  ’Just come out here, Chawles,’ says I, ‘I’ve a word for you, my old boy.’  So I beckoned him into Portland Place, with my pus in my hand, as if I was going to give him a sovaring.

“‘I think you said “Jeames,” Chawles,’ says I, ’and grind at me at dinner?’

“‘Why, sir.’ says he, ‘we’re old friends, you know.’

“‘Take that for old friendship then,’ says I, and I gave him just one on the noas, which sent him down on the pavemint as if he’d been shot.  And mounting myjesticly into my cabb, I left the rest of the grinning scoundrills to pick him up, & droav to the Clubb.”

“Have this day kimpleated a little efair with my friend George, Earl Bareacres, which I trust will be to the advantidge both of self & that noble gent.  Adjining the Bareacre proppaty is a small piece of land of about 100 acres, called Squallop Hill, igseeding advantageous for the cultivation of sheep, which have been found to have a pickewlear fine flaviour from the natur of the grass, tyme, heather, and other hodarefarus plants which grows on that mounting in the places where the rox and stones don’t prevent them.  Thistles here is also remarkable fine, and the land is also devided hoff by luxurient Stone Hedges—­much more usefle and ickonomicle than your quickset or any of that rubbishing sort of timber:  indeed the sile is of that fine natur, that timber refuses to grow there altogether.  I gave Bareacres 50L. an acre for this land (the igsact premium of my St. Helena Shares)—­a very handsom price for land which never yielded two shillings an acre; and very convenient to his Lordship I know, who had a bill coming due at his Bankers which he had given them.  James de la Pluche, Esquire, is thus for the fust time a landed propriator—­or rayther, I should say, is about to reshume the rank & dignity in the country which his Hancestors so long occupied.

“I have caused one of our inginears to make me a plann of the Squallop Estate, Diddlesexshire, the property of &c. &c., bordered on the North by Lord Bareacres’ Country; on the West by Sir Granby Growler; on the South by the Hotion.  An Arkytect & Survare, a young feller of great emagination, womb we have employed to make a survey of the Great Caffranan line, has built me a beautiful Villar (on paper), Plushton