_A_. Indeed I am not so exorbitant in my demands upon your good-nature; but observe, I may get up four or five chapters already with the hints you have given me, but I do not know how to move, such a creation of the brain--so ethereal, that I fear he will melt away; and so fragile, that I am in terror lest he fall to pieces. Now only get him into the breakfast-room for me, and then I ask no more for the present. Only dress him, and bring him _down stairs_. _B_. There again you prove your incapability. Bring him down stairs! Your hero of a fashionable novel never ascends to the first floor. Bed-room, dressing-room, breakfast-room, library, and boudoir, all are upon a level. As for his dressing, you must only describe it as perfect when finished; but not enter into a regular detail, except that, in conversation with his valet, he occasionally asks for something unheard-of, or fastidious to a degree. You must not walk him from one chamber to another, but manage it as follows:--"It was not until the beautiful airs of the French clock that decorated the mantel-piece had been thrice played, with all their variations, that the Honourable Augustus Bouverie entered his library, where he found his assiduous Coridon burning an aromatic pastille to disperse the compound of villainous exhalations arising from the condensed metropolitan atmosphere. Once more in a state of repose, to the repeated and almost affecting solicitations of his faithful attendant, who alternately presented to him the hyson of Pekoe, the bohea of Twankay, the fragrant berry from the Asiatic shore, and the frothing and perfumed decoction of the Indian nut, our hero shook his head in denial, until he at last was prevailed upon to sip a small liqueur glass of _eau sucre_." The fact is, Arthur, he is in love--don't you perceive? Now introduce a friend, who rallies him--then a resolution to think no more of the heroine--a billet on a golden salver--a counter resolution--a debate which equipage to order--a decision at last--hat, gloves, and furred great coat--and by that time you will have arrived to the middle of the first volume. _A_. I perceive; but I shall certainly stick there without your assistance. _B_. You shall have it, my dear fellow. In a week I will call again, and see how you get on. Then we'll introduce the heroine; that, I can tell you, requires some tact--_au revoir_. _A_. Thanks, many thanks, my dear Barnstaple. Fare you well. _Exit_ BARNSTAPLE. _A (looking over his memoranda_.)--It will do! (_Hopping and dancing about the room_.) Hurrah! my tailor's bill will be paid after all! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ PART II. MR ARTHUR ANSARD'S _Chambers as before_. MR ANSARD. _with his eyes fixed upon the wig block, gnawing the feather end of his pen. The table, covered with sundry sheets of foolscap, show strong symptoms of the Novel progressing_.