“Next I besieged Will Wingham. I made my approaches as before, with great caution, and at last summoned the garrison to surrender. ‘Books!’ he exclaimed, ‘I haven’t one but a Greek Grammar, with all syntax out.’ ‘And do you think,’ I resumed, ‘that an Etonian can do well without them?’ ‘Do well!’ he said; ‘oh yes, very!’--and he laughed. There was a wish for improvement! “Now, my good Peregrine,” continued the old gentleman, putting his feet up upon the hobs of my fire, and looking very argumentative, “what do you say to all this?” The old gentleman is Laudator temporis acti Se puero. He left the room piqued, when we hurt his prejudices by replying, “Nothing, sir, but that the Etonians of 1821 are not, we will hope, the Etonians of 17--.” THE MISTAKE; OR, SIXES AND SEVENS. “Be particular to observe that the name on the door is----.” _Morning Chronicle_, April 1821. It is a point which has often been advanced and contested by the learned, that the world grows worse as it grows older; arguments have been advanced, and treatises written, in support of Horace’s opinion-- Ætas parentum pejor avis tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem. The supporters of this idea rest their sentence upon various grounds: they mention the frequency of crim. con. cases, the increase of the poor-rate, the licentiousness of the press, the celebrity of _rouge et noir_. There is, however, one circumstance corroborative of their judgment, to which we think the public opinion has not yet been sufficiently called. We mean the indisputable fact that persons of all descriptions are growing ashamed of their own names. We remember that when we were dragged in our childhood to walk with our nurse, we were accustomed to beguile our sense of weariness and disgust by studying the names, which, in their neat brass plates, decorated the doors by which we passed. Now the case is altered. We have observed elsewhere that the tradesmen have removed their signs; it is equally true that the gentlemen have removed their names. The simple numerical distinction, which is now alone emblazoned upon the doors of our dwellings, but ill replaces that more gratifying custom, which, in a literal sense, held up great names for our emulation, and made the streets of the metropolis a muster-roll of examples for our conduct. But a very serious inconvenience is also occasioned by this departure from ancient observances. How is the visitor from the country to discover the patron of his fortunes, the friend of his bosom, or the mistress of his heart, if, in lieu of the above-mentioned edifying brass plates, his eye glances upon the unsatisfactory information contained in 1, 2, or 3? In some cases even this assistance is denied to him, and he wanders upon his dark and comfortless voyage, like an ancient mariner deprived of the assistance of the stars.