The Book of Snobs

uld say, that three or four young cavaliers were drinking a cup of wine after dinner at the hostelry called the ‘King’s Arms,’ kept

latterly only allowed him to give tea-parties) entertained his royal niece at a state banquet. When the caroches of the nobles had set down their owners at the banquethall, their

he hues of the rainbow gleamed in their plush breeches, and the long-caned ones walked up and down the garden with that charming solemnity, that delightful quivering swagger of the

e door opened, and (after setting down their Royal Mistress) her Maj

the walk: they sneaked into dark holes and drank their beer in silence. The Royal Plush kept possession of the garden until the Royal Plush dinner was announce

next, are but the types of their masters in this world. HE WHO MEANLY ADMIR

before the royal representative in Kensington Gardens. To say of such and such a Gracious Sovereign that he is a Snob, is but to say that his Majesty is a man. Kin

man — neither courage, nor generosity, nor honesty, nor brains; but read what the great Divines and Doctors of England said about him! Charles II., his grandson, was a ro

orgius IV. With the same humility with which the footmen at the ‘King’s Arms’ gave way before the Plush Royal, the aristocracy of the Brentford nation bent down and truckled be

question to all instructors of youth — to Mrs. Ellis and the Women of England; to all schoolmasters, from Doctor Hawtrey down to Mr. Squeers. I conjure up before me an awful tribunal of youth and innocence, attended by its venerable instructors (like the ten thousand red-cheeked charity-children in Saint Paul’s), sitting in judgment, and Gorgius pleading his cause in the midst. Out of Court, out of Court, fat old Florizel! Beadles, turn out that bloated, pimple-faced man!— If Gorgius MUST have a statue in the new Palace which the Brentford nation is building, it ought to be set up in the Flunkeys’ Hall. He

Gorgius visited them. We have all of us read with delight that story of the King’s voyage to Haggisland, where his presence inspired such a fury of loyalty and where the most famous man of the country — the Baron of Bradwardine — coming on board the royal yacht, and finding a glass out of which Gorgius had drunk, put it in

the figure of Gorgius in his real, identical robes, at the waxwork.— Admi