This conduct I can understand, but I cannot excuse--Mr. Spavin may; and I leave the matter to be settled betwixt himself and Mr. Green. The second is Monsieur Sinbad, Mr. Clarence Bulbul’s man, whom we all hate Clarence for keeping. Mr. Sinbad is a foreigner, speaking no known language, but a mixture of every European dialect--so that he may be an Italian brigand, or a Tyrolese minstrel, or a Spanish smuggler, for what we know. I have heard say that he is neither of these, but an Irish Jew. He wears studs, hair-oil, jewellery, and linen shirt fronts, very finely embroidered but not particular for whiteness. He generally appears in faded velvet waistcoats of a morning, and is always perfumed with stale tobacco. He wears large rings on his hands, which look as if he kept them up the chimney. He does not appear to do anything earthly for Clarence Bulbul, except to smoke his cigars, and to practise on his guitar. He will not answer a bell, nor fetch a glass of water, nor go of an errand, on which, _au reste_, Clarence dares not send him, being entirely afraid of his servant, and not daring to use him, or to abuse him, or to send him away. 3. Adams--Mr. Champignon’s man--a good old man in an old livery coat with old worsted lace--so very old, deaf, surly, and faithful, that you wonder how he should have got into the family at all, who never kept a footman till last year, when they came into the street. Miss Clapperclaw says she believes Adams to be Mrs. Champignon’s father, and he certainly has a look of that lady, as Miss C. pointed out to me at dinner one night, whilst old Adams was blundering about amongst the hired men from Gunter’s, and falling over the silver dishes. 4. Fipps, the buttoniest page in all the street, walks behind Mrs. Grimsby with her prayer-book, and protects her. “If that woman wants a protector” (a female acquaintance remarks), “Heaven be good to us--she is as big as an ogress, and has an upper lip which many a Cornet of the Life Guards might envy. Her poor dear husband was a big man, and she could beat him easily, and did too. Mrs. Grimsby, indeed! Why, my dear Mr. Titmarsh, it is Glumdalca walking with Tom Thumb.” This observation of Miss C.’s is very true, and Mrs. Grimsby might carry her prayer-book to church herself. But Miss Clapperclaw, who is pretty well able to take care of herself too, was glad enough to have the protection of the page when she went out in the fly to pay visits: and before Mrs. Grimsby and she quarrelled at whist at Lady Pocklington’s.