MEANWHILE the baronet was almost constantly with him and Mortimer; and becoming acquainted with Dr. Scribble, and having a genuine taste for humour, he entered thoroughly into the character of arrogant emptiness, and literary scrap-writing. The doctor was very vain of this acquaintance, as in discourse with his friend Nincompoop, or with any of his fellow journeymen employed on Nin’s manufactures, he could talk of “my friend the baronet,” as I observed to Sir Edward, who was greatly struck with the depth of the observations. Scribble had taken it into his head that no employment could be more suitable to his capacity and fulness, than making speeches for members of parliament. One day, as the Baronet was walking alone on the Steyne, expecting our hero and the Mortimers, the Doctor accosted him, and, after the first salutations, requested the honour of some private discourse. Accordingly, they walked along Eastcliff, and the doctor began: “Sir Edward Hamden, I deem myself happy in the honour of your acquaintance, and should rejoice very much in an opportunity of rendering myself beneficial to a young gentleman, whom I think destined to be an orator and a statesman.” “Sir,” said Sir Edward, “praise from Dr. Scribble, must be always adequately valued, by every one who has discernment to appreciate his character, which is too strongly marked, not to be easily comprehended.” “Sir,” said the doctor, “you do me infinite honour; you have heard of me then before;--you have, I presume, read my history of Jack the giant killer.” “Oh! undoubtedly;” “which part of it do you think most striking?” “It is all so conspicuous,” replied the baronet, “that I find it difficult to select one part, more characteristic of the author, than another: which do you think the best yourself?” “Why, I think the dissertations upon dress, and especially shoe-strings in the time of the ancient Britons, is one of the most profound; but the most pathetic, is the Hero’s Adventure in the house of the two giant misers; I think that is fully equal to Livy’s story of the Horatii and Curatii, far surpassing any modern historian. This hero’s reception from his uncle, is chiefly to be admired, for exhibiting my powers of moral precept and inculcation. An insolent reviewer charged me with borrowing from Mother Goose’s tales, especially from Bluebeard, and Little Thumb and the Ogre, but it was all false. History, however, is not my only fort; indeed I can write every thing, for instance, what a fuss there is about that fellow Moore’s Travels; I can write travels better than he;--I have brought you a specimen of a new work I am bringing out for Mr. Nincompoop, the famous bookseller. It’s title is, A curious and interesting Tour to Maidenhead; back by Windsor, Stains, Sunbury, Hampton-Court, Kingston, Twickenham, and home by Richmond. I flatter myself, you will find novelty, ingenuity, and humour.” Accordingly, the Baronet read: “Tuesday, June 24th, we set off on horseback from the Black