arrangement, sounded flat when mingled with the rich and
recommendatory oratory of the bold-faced, deep-mouthed, and ready-
witted Jenkin Vincent.--"What d'ye lack, noble sir?--What d'ye lack,
beauteous madam?" he said, in a tone at once bold and soothing, which
often was so applied as both to gratify the persons addressed, and to
excite a smile from other hearers.--"God bless your reverence," to a
beneficed clergyman; "the Greek and Hebrew have harmed your
reverence's eyes--Buy a pair of David Ramsay's barnacles. The King--
God bless his Sacred Majesty!--never reads Hebrew or Greek without
them."

"Are you well avised of that?" said a fat parson from the Vale of
Evesham. "Nay, if the Head of the Church wears them,--God bless his
Sacred Majesty!--I will try what they can do for me; for I have not
been able to distinguish one Hebrew letter from another, since--I
cannot remember the time--when I had a bad fever. Choose me a pair of
his most Sacred Majesty's own wearing, my good youth." "This is a
pair, and please your reverence," said Jenkin, producing a pair of
spectacles which he touched with an air of great deference and
respect, "which his most blessed Majesty placed this day three weeks
on his own blessed nose; and would have kept them for his own sacred
use, but that the setting being, as your reverence sees, of the purest
jet, was, as his Sacred Majesty was pleased to say, fitter for a
bishop than for a secular prince."

"His Sacred Majesty the King," said the worthy divine, "was ever a
very Daniel in his judgment. Give me the barnacles, my good youth, and
who can say what nose they may bestride in two years hence?--our
reverend brother of Gloucester waxes in years." He then pulled out his
purse, paid for the spectacles, and left the shop with even a more