Pestle having become a great merchant at Calcutta, sent for his nephew, who accepted the invitation; went out; was taken into the business; in a short time the uncle died, Pestle got his fortune, became a great man, sent for his wife, who obeyed the summons, and became as great a woman; but in the midst of her splendour, retained all her vulgarity, which her airs and pomposity rendered more glaringly conspicuous: as a considerable portion of the society in Calcutta is genteel, she was a laughing-stock among the parties, and as she was extremely arrogant, not a few attempts were made to mortify her to a sense of her intrinsic insignificance; she was very desirous of sinking her origin, but the Pewter Pot being known, that was quite impracticable; they were now returned with a large fortune, tried to get into fashionable society, and did not find it altogether impracticable, as there are gentry and nobility, who, without relishing the company of Mrs. Pestle, had no objection to the company of her husband’s money, which by flattering my lady’s vanity, some of them find means to borrow; but whoever would gain or keep her favour, must carefully abstain from mentioning the Pewter Pot.” The company now began to leave the house of Mrs. Dicky, and before twelve they were all departed, except our hero and heroine; they had both to make some change in their dress, before they joined the masks at Cockatrice-house. Captain Mortimer had returned home, and gone to bed, the only scene for which he now, with three bottles of wine under his belt, was fit; Mrs. Dicky was departed, and not a soul there was in all the house, but one single servant, at midnight, except Hamilton and Maria. William having descended to make some inquiry about his carriage, found that the only person, except Miss Mortimer and himself, in the house, was an elderly domestic, whom he had interrupted in a comfortable sleep by the kitchen fire, and who appeared disposed to return again to the arms of Morpheus. He now rejoined Maria, who was dressed with simple, but most attractive loveliness, as a Nun, while William had from some whim taken it into his head to act the part of Ovid. The master of the art of love, at midnight, alone, even with a Nun herself, was dangerous company, tending to demonstrate the fragility of vows. Maria’s flutter had been increased rather than diminished, by the scenes of the masquerade; Mrs. Dicky had prevailed on her to take some lemonade, which most unaccountably had the same peculiarity of flavour that she had experienced in the fruit, liqueurs, wine, and coffee. Hamilton having taken her hands, the same kind of conversation insensibly revived, which the coming of masks had, above two hours before, interrupted; Maria was extremely agitated, and when our hero clasping her in his arms, pressed her to his bosom, and declared his ardent wishes that she were his wife;--“nay, my dearest Maria, you are my wife, and as a husband,”--here followed impassioned