anecdote, related to me several years ago, by a beloved friend:--An idle
old lady, living in a narrow street, had passed so much of her time in
watching the affairs of her neighbours, that she, at length, acquired
the power of distinguishing the sound of every knocker within hearing.
It happened that she fell ill, and was, for several days, confined to
her bed. Unable to observe in person what was going on without, she
stationed her maid at the window, as a substitute for the performance
of that duty. But Betty soon grew weary of the occupation: she became
careless in her reports--impatient and tetchy when reprimanded for her
negligence.

"Betty, what _are_ you thinking about? don't you hear a double
knock at No. 9? Who is it?"

"The first-floor lodger, Ma'am."

"Betty! Betty!--I declare I must give you warning. Why don't you tell me
what that knock is at No. 54!"

"Why, Lord! Ma'am, it is only the baker, with pies."

"_Pies_, Betty! what _can_ they want with pies at 54?--they
had pies yesterday!"

Of this very point I have availed myself. Let me add that Paul Pry
was never intended as the _representative of any one individual_, but
a class. Like the melancholy of Jaques, he is "compounded of many
_Simples_;" and I _could_ mention five or six who were unconscious
contributors to the character.--That it should have been so often,
though erroneously, supposed to have been drawn after some particular