The Butler.

service and pay of the Duke of Pyrmont, a great crony with the butler, and a secret rival to Miss Betty Winker.

This gentleman, the butler we mean, was the most intimate confident of his Grace; indeed he had a right to his utmost favour, since he had saved his master's honour and life at a certain volcanic explosion that took place, a few years ago, in theneighbourhood of St. Martin's-lane, where an ancient model of the sacellum and temple of Venus Callipyga was completely destroyed and burnt to ashes. His Grace, and several others, amongst whom was a notorious priest of the goddess, had escaped by the first-floor windows, in a light dress, just as they had left the sacellum and sacred pulvinar ;* hooted by the profane and ignorant mob, they were on

*The pulvinar was a kind of bolster or cushion, which the Romans used to place under the statues, or their gods, on particular days.

His Amours.

the point of being hustled back into the flames, when, supecting his master to have been officiating at the temple that night, the faithful butler brought garments to cover his accidental nudity. Mrs. Blump, who had been made privy to the transaction, found her interest to keep in with Mr. Spruce; and few people know how many bottles of Frontignac, Mountain, and Madeira, have distilled their delightful nectar on the lips of these two friends, as they always sat up after the whole family were gone to bed, in order to put out the lights. Treading lightly on tiptoe, often did curiosity lead Miss Betty to the door, and placed her listening ear to the key-hole, but in vain! she never heard any thing of consequence, nothing more than what is of course, viz. abusing the duke and his ladies, laughing at the duchess's vanity and dress, mimicking the prudery of Lady Charlotte, and the occasional siinpering of master Philip.

Miss Winker.

Betty was the natural daughter of a petty-officer of the Custom-honse, who, having been smuggled off by some ruffians, could no longer support, in the Minories, where he lived, the beautiful young Abigail whom he had seduced and led away from Rosemary-lane. However, tossed from place to place, always honest and naturally cheerful, Betty fared pretty well, and obtained both the high honour of being my lady's favourite, and the felicity of attracting the notice of Mr. Nathaniel Spruce and the pugdog.

Monsieur Dubois was a native of Marly, near Paris, and had exercised the liberal art of cooking under the denomination of a French cuisinier, although his father was Suisse de nation, aud porter at the gate of Lucienne, the country-seat of the unfortunate mistress of Louis XV. He came with that lady to England; but having left no property behind, and be

The French Cook.

ing particularly fond of our guineas, thought prudent not to go back to France. He spoke bad French, and worse English; was uncommonly fond of dancing, and a tolerable performer on the violin. Often would he pass his evenings, scraping at the bottom of the staircase, when the Duchess was at a rout, and solicit the femmes de chambre to a cotillion in the hall; but in the country he led a miserable life, talking of nothing but of the jardins de Marly, and contriving, with all kinds of gestures, to make his fellowservants understand the whole secret and machinery of the famous water-works of that place; however, he had enough of the Frenchman about him to be in love with all women in the world; to wear constantly a flower at his buttonhole, and never to appear before he had twisted the black ribbon of his queue. His mental faculties were not bright, but his vivacity was often taken for wit, and his politeness for good breeding.

Miss Sharpe, the Maid.

A cunning young woman, whose name was Sharpe, held the second station below Miss Betty. She was born at York, and sent to London by her friends as a maid-of-all-work, at a boarding-school in the neighbourhood of Clapham; but, a few days after she had been there, a pair of silk stockings, the only pair that belonged to the Queen of the rod, walked, God knows how, into her trunk; and she was dismissed on a moment's notice. What could she do? No character to be obtained from her unforgiving mistress; to walk the streets at night would have been shocking to her mind and the ideas she had of virtue; by letters, in the most pathetic stile, she obtained a recom'mendation from a lady she was acquainted with, and the stain being thereby washed off, she, from situation to situation, climbed up and arrived at Lady Pyrmont's bed-chamber. She was pretty, and of a comely figure, and not unnoticed by Monsieur Dubois, who would swear,