The Drill Sergeant hath but little complacency in him; he is a thing to be reverenced, not doted upon; we fear him and his mysteries; even his good humour startles, for it is at once as blustering and as insignificant as a report of a blank cartridge. Again, I say, the Drill Sergeant is to be approached with awe; smirking flies the majesty of his rattan. He is the despot of joints; and we rub our hands with glee, and our very toes glow again, when we reflect they are not of his dominions. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Illustration: The HANDBOOK of SWINDLING ] CHAPTER I By the late Captain Barabbas Whitefeather. Late of the body-guard of his Majesty, King Carlos; Treasurer of the British Wine and Vinegar Company; Trustee for the protection of the River Thames from incendiaries; principal inventor of Poyais stock; Ranger of St George’s Fields; original Patentee of the Parachute Conveyance Association; Knight of every order of the fleece; Scamp and Cur. “A man he was to all the country _dear_.”—GOLDSMITH. Edited by John Jackdaw. THE editor has disciplined himself to receive with becoming moderation the tremendous expression of national gratitude consequent on the publication of this valuable work—the production of the late estimable Captain Barabbas Whitefeather. It was discovered among many other papers accidentally left at the lodgings of the deceased, and placed in the hands of the editor by the executors of the lamented and—if a novel epithet may be applied to him—talented author. When “handbooks” devoted to the lighter elegancies, nay, to the frivolities, of life are every day poured down upon a thankful generation, it would indeed be to incur the charge of poltroonery to doubt the brilliant success of the present essay. The philosophical observer who has witnessed the fervent welcome accorded by a British public to “The Handbook of Skittles,” “The Handbook of Cheese-Toasting,” “The Handbook of Eel-Skinning,” “The Handbook of Nutmeg-Grating,” “The Handbook of Corn-Cutting,” “The Handbook of Kitten-Drowning,” and other productions of lesser pith and purpose,—the philosophic observer cannot but glow with the sweetest and liveliest feelings of anticipated pleasure at the outburst of national gratitude acknowledging and rejoicing in the publication of “THE HANDBOOK OF SWINDLING.”