“I came into the world with an inordinate love of glory, and a great admiration of the original; these propensities might have made me a Shakspeare--they did more, they made me a Russelton! When I was six years old, I cut my jacket into a coat, and turned my aunt’s best petticoat into a waistcoat. I disdained at eight the language of the vulgar, and when my father asked me to fetch his slippers, I replied, that my soul swelled beyond the limits of a lackey’s. At nine, I was self-inoculated with propriety of ideas. I rejected malt with the air of His Majesty, and formed a violent affection for maraschino; though starving at school, I never took twice of pudding, and paid sixpence a week out of my shilling to have my shoes blacked. As I grew up, my notions expanded. I gave myself, without restraint, to the ambition that burnt within me--I cut my old friends, who were rather envious than emulous of my genius, and I employed three tradesmen to make my gloves--one for the hand, a second for the fingers, and a third for the thumb! These two qualities made me courted and admired by a new race--for the great secrets of being courted are to shun others, and seem delighted with yourself. The latter is obvious enough; who the deuce should be pleased with you, if you yourself are not? “Before I left college I fell in love. Other fellows, at my age, in such a predicament, would have whined--shaved only twice a week, and written verses. I did none of the three--the last indeed I tried, but, to my infinite surprise, I found my genius was not universal. I began with “‘Sweet nymph, for whom I wake my muse.’ “For this, after considerable hammering, I could only think of the rhyme ‘shoes’--so I began again,-- “‘Thy praise demands much softer lutes.’ “And the fellow of this verse terminated like myself in ‘boots.’--Other efforts were equally successful--‘bloom’ suggested to my imagination no rhyme but ‘perfume!’--‘despair’ only reminded me of my ‘hair,’--and ‘hope’ was met at the end of the second verse, by the inharmonious antithesis of ‘soap.’ Finding, therefore, that my forte was not in the Pierian line, I redoubled my attention to my dress; I coated, and cravated, and essenced, and oiled, with all the attention the very inspiration of my rhymes seemed to advise;--in short, I thought the best pledge I could give my Dulcinea of my passion for her person, would be to show her what affectionate veneration I could pay to my own. “My mistress could not withhold from me her admiration, but she denied me her love. She confessed Mr. Russelton was the best dressed man at the University, and had the whitest hands; and two days after this avowal, she ran away with a great rosy-cheeked extract from Leicestershire. “I did not blame her: I pitied her too much--but I made a vow never to be in love again. In spite of all advantages I kept my oath, and avenged myself on the species for the insult of the individual.