Who of us.” “Of you, _Peers of England--pillars of the State_: there is, as you see there, the lord chancellor, and the lord chief justice Norland, to engage with your ladyship on constitutional law, and state politics. Lord Carolina to engage you on warfare and literature.--I saw two or three of the bishops here too; they will afford an opportunity of opening your stores on divinity.” “Aye, aye,” said Bayleaf, “what you say of learning and divinity reminds me of a piece of news I just heard. I find my Lord Cockatrice is turning author;” “What is he about to write?” “A commentary on the patience of Job.” “Well,” said Bayleaf, “your friend George Bonmots, who has been your partner in other concerns, seems to be letting you into a partnery of his wit; but, I much question whether your capital be sufficient.” “But your ladyship has not yet answered my question:--Who of our friends are at Brighton?” “Oh! abundance; there is my Lord Spindle, Viscount Ogle, Sir Billy Butterfly, Tommy Titmouse, the Lady Leerwell, the Dowager Dimple, the Countess of Cockdie, Lady Frances Faro, Sir John Jockey, and an old friend of your house, his new-married lady, and various others, whom I have not time now to recount.” During this dialogue, a plump, sturdy, rosy-cheeked person made up to Mr. Chatter, who received him with much heartiness. “Ah, my good friend, Kit Cotton, who thought of seeing you at Brighton?” “Being now less off business, and a gemman, I have come down a bit to see your doings.” “So you have left off business.” “Yes; I have retired into the country now, for the benefit of air and exercise. I bought a nice house by Kingsland turnpike, near the brickfield, within sight of the great cow-keeper’s yard. Charming prospect I have on the one side to Ballspond and Hoxton; on another, to Hackney fields, all the way over to the Cat and Shoulder of Mutton. We are just upon the road, and there is a power of coaches that passes us every day; so it is very pleasant to sit at the window and count them. I know to a minute when every stage coach should pass, for I was always pretty cute, and _obsarves_ what is going forewood.” “But why are you in mourning; no family misfortune I hope?” “Oh yes, our Deborah have left me a widower; but, as the parson says, the will of Providence must be done. Daughter Peg now keeps house. It was she that made me come down here, for, says she, father, now you be come on in the world, and a gemman; it is right you should put yourself forwood among other great gentlefolks. I was agreeable, and proposed Margate; but Peg said, says she, Margate be well enough for the ribble rabble Canille, says she; but won’t do for those who have _pretensions_ to gentility, says she. Most of our old neighbours are gone there that I used to keep company with before I left off business; and my daughter Peg says they won’t do for people of condition. This is a good smartish place enough, not much worse than White Conduit House; but for one thing, is bad.