When the fashionable season filled London with exhibitors of all
descriptions, lecturers and else, Mr. Crotchet was in his glory;
for, in addition to the perennial literati of the metropolis, he
had the advantage of the visits of a number of hardy annuals,
chiefly from the north, who, as the interval of their metropolitan
flowering allowed, occasionally accompanied their London brethren
in excursions to Crotchet Castle.

Amongst other things, he took very naturally to political economy,
read all the books on the subject which were put forth by his own
countrymen, attended all lectures thereon, and boxed the technology
of the sublime science as expertly as an able seaman boxes the
compass.

With this agreeable mania he had the satisfaction of biting his
son, the hope of his name and race, who had borne off from Oxford
the highest academical honours; and who, treading in his father's
footsteps to honour and fortune, had, by means of a portion of the
old gentleman's surplus capital, made himself a junior partner in
the eminent loan-jobbing firm of Catchflat and Company. Here, in
the days of paper prosperity, he applied his science-illumined
genius to the blowing of bubbles, the bursting of which sent many a
poor devil to the gaol, the workhouse, or the bottom of the river,
but left young Crotchet rolling in riches.

These riches he had been on the point of doubling, by a marriage
with the daughter of Mr. Touchandgo, the great banker, when, one
foggy morning, Mr. Touchandgo and the contents of his till were
suddenly reported absent; and as the fortune which the young