"The Duke of Walworth presents his compliments to Mr. Tuft, and feels particularly obliged by," &c. "The Duchess of Diamond hopes Mr. Tuft will not forget to bring with him this evening," &c. "The Marquis of M---- has the honor to assure Mr. Tuft that," &c. "Dear Mr. Tuft, "Why were you not at ---- House last night? We were dreadfully dull without you! X ---- just as stupid as you always say he _is_." [This was from a very pretty and fashionable countess, whose initials it bore.] "If Mr. Tuft is dead, Lady Dulcimer requests to be informed when his funeral will take place, as she, together with a host of mourners, intends to show him a last mark of respect." "Dear Mr. Tuft, "The poodle you brought me has got the mange, or some horrid complaint or other, which is making all his hair fall off. Do come and tell me what is to be done. Where can I send the sweet suffering angel?--Yours, ARABELLA D----." [This was from the eldest and loveliest daughter of a very great duke.] "The Lord Chancellor presents his compliments, and begs to acknowledge the receipt of Mr. Venom Tuft's obliging present of his little '_Essay on Greatness_.'" These are samples, taken at random, of the contents of Mr. Tuft's book of autographs, evidencing abundantly the satisfactory terms of intimacy upon which he lived with the great; and it was ecstasy to him, to see this glittering record of his triumphs glanced over by the envious admiring eyes of those in his own station in society. How he delighted to be asked about the sayings and doings of the exclusive circles! How confidentially would he intimate the desperate condition of a sick peer--an expected _éclaircissement_ of some fashionable folly and crime--or a move to be made in the Upper House that evening! Poor Tuft little suspecting (lying so snug in his shell of self-conceit) how frequently he fell, on these occasions, among the Philistines--and was, unconsciously to himself, being trotted out by a calm sarcastic hypocrite, for the amusement of the standers-by, just as a little monkey is poked with a stick to get up and exhibit himself and his tricks. Such was Mr. Tuft, a great friend and admirer of "the marquis," through whose influence he had procured the invitation from Titmouse, in virtue of which he was now dressing in a nice little room at the back of the Hall, overlooking the stables; being bent upon improving his already tolerably familiar acquaintance with the Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia, and also extracting from the man whose hospitality he was enjoying, materials for merriment among his great friends against the next season.