“At the breaking up of the parade, stroll, as it were, accidentally into the Prince of Wales’s Coffee house, in Conduit Street, walk up with the greatest ease, and consummate confidence to every box, in rotation; look at everybody with an inexplicable _hauteur_, bordering upon contempt; for, although it is most likely you will know _little_ or _nothing_ of _them_, the great object is, that they should have a _perfect knowledge_ of _you_. Having repeatedly, and vociferously, called the waiter when he is most _engaged_, and, at each time asked him various questions equally frivolous and insignificant, seem to skim the surface of the _Morning Post_ (if disengaged), humming the _March_ in _Blue Beard_,[46] to show the _versatility_ of your genius; when, finding you have made yourself sufficiently _conspicuous_, and an object of general attention (or rather attraction), suddenly leave the room, but not without such an _emphatical_ mode of _shutting_ the _door_, as may afford to the various companies, and individuals, a most striking proof of your departure.” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXXI. “The three Mr. Wiggins’s”—The “Crops”—Hair-powdering—The powdering closet—Cost of clothes—Economy in hats—Taxing hats—Eye-glasses—“The Green Man” at Brighton—Eccentricities in dress. “THE THREE Mr. Wiggins’s” are _real_ “Bond Street Loungers,” and are portraits of Lord Llandaff and his brothers, the Hon. Montagu, and George, Matthews. They were dandies of the purest water, with their white waistcoats and white satin knee-ribbons. The title is taken from a farce by Allingham, called “Mrs. Wiggins,” played at the Haymarket, May 27, 1803. It is very laughable, and turns upon the adventures of an old man named Wiggins, and three Mrs. Wiggins’s. It was very popular, and gave the title to another caricature of Gillray’s. [Illustration: THE THREE MR. WIGGINS’S.]