The things we do!

He is the confidant in white linen to the heroine in
white satin. He is "Tom, you rascal," the valet or tiger, more or less
impudent and acute--that well-known menial in top-boots and a livery
frock with red cuffs and collar, whom Sir Harry always retains in his
service, addresses with scurrilous familiarity, and pays so irregularly:
or he is Lucetta, Lady Annabel's waiting-maid, who carries the
billets-doux and peeps into them; knows all about the family affairs;
pops the lover under the sofa; and sings a comic song between the scenes.
Our business now is to enter into Charles Honeyman's privacy, to peer
into the secrets of that reverend gentleman, and to tell what has
happened to him during the past months, in which he has made fitful
though graceful appearances on our scene.
While his nephew's whiskers have been budding, and his brother-in-law has
been spending his money and leave, Mr. Honeyman's hopes have been
withering, his sermons growing stale, his once blooming popularity
drooping and running to seed.


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