It used to be, 'Look at that dandified ass, Waffles, I declare the sight of him makes me sick'; or, 'What a barber's apprentice that fellow is, with his ringlets all smeared with Macassar.' Now it was Waffles this, Waffles that, 'Who dines with Waffles ?' 'Waffles is the best fellow under the sun! By Jingo, I know no such man as Waffles!' '_Most deserving_ young man!' In arriving at this conclusion, their judgement was greatly assisted by the magnificent way he went to work.

Old Tom Towler, the whip, who had toiled at his calling for twenty long years on fifty pounds and what he could 'pick up,' was advanced to a hundred and fifty, with a couple of men under him.

Instead of riding worn-out, tumble-down, twenty-pound screws, he was mounted on hundred-guinea horses, for which the dealers were to have a couple of hundred, _when they were paid_.

Everything was in the same proportion.
Mr.Waffles' succession to the hunt made a great commotion among the fair--many elegant and interesting young ladies, who had been going on the pious tack against the Reverend Solomon Winkeyes, the popular bachelor preacher of St.Margaret's, teaching in his schools, distributing his tracts, and collecting the penny subscriptions for his clothing club, now took to riding in fan-tailed habits and feathered hats, and talking about leaping and hunting, and riding over rails.

Mr.Waffles had a pound of hat-strings sent him in a week, and muffatees innumerable.