Undoubtedly we are a most thinking, rational, sober, and religious people. It is a fact upon which we rather pride ourselves. It is one of which we are firmly convinced, and respecting which we are apt to become somewhat garrulous, and not a little dull. On this head we suffer much good-natured prosing in ourselves and others. Like the Pharisees of old, we go up into the temple and thank God that we are not rationalists, like the Germans, or infidels, like the French. We are neither Turks nor Papists, but, on the contrary, good honest Christian men. It may be that we are a little too much given to boasting—that we are rather too fond of giving our alms before men—that when we pray, it is not in secret and when the door is shut, but where the prayer can be heard and the devotion admired; but we are what we are—and we imagine we get on indifferently well. We might, possibly, be better—certainly we might be worse; but, as it is, we are not particularly dissatisfied, and have ever, on our faces, a most complacent smirk, testifying so strongly, to our pleasing consciousness, of the many virtues we may happen to possess, but in spite of all this we need a considerable increase and improvement as regards what is called commercial morality. CHAPTER XV. LONDON GENTS. The newspapers, a few years since, contained an instance of folly such as we seldom meet with, even in this foolish generation. Two young men—gents, we presume—one Sunday evening promenading Regent Street, the admired of all beholders, met two young ladies of equally genteel manners, and equally fashionable exterior. It is said, “When Greek meet Greek, then comes the tug of war.”