in an intellectual view no compositions more surely deserved; but
whispered as the productions of one behind the scenes, and appearing in
the pages of a party review, they were passed off as genuine coin, and
took in great numbers of the lieges, especially in the country. They were
written in a style apparently modelled on the briefs of those sharp
attorneys who weary advocates with their clever commonplace; teasing with
obvious comment, and torturing with inevitable inference. The affectation
of order in the statement of facts had all the lucid method of an adroit
pettifogger. They dealt much in extracts from newspapers, quotations from
the _Annual Register_, parallel passages in forgotten speeches, arranged
with a formidable array of dates rarely accurate. When the writer was of
opinion he had made a point, you may be sure the hit was in italics, that
last resource of the Forcible Feebles. He handled a particular in
chronology as if he were proving an alibi at the Criminal Court. The
censure was coarse without being strong, and vindictive when it would have
been sarcastic. Now and then there was a passage which aimed at a higher
flight, and nothing can be conceived more unlike genuine feeling, or more
offensive to pure taste. And yet, perhaps, the most ludicrous
characteristic of these facetious gallimaufreys was an occasional
assumption of the high moral and admonitory tone, which when we recurred
to the general spirit of the discourse, and were apt to recall the
character of its writer, irresistibly reminded one of Mrs. Cole and her
prayer-book.

To return to Lucian Gay. It was a rule with Rigby that no one, if
possible, should do anything for Lord Monmouth but himself; and as a
jester must be found, he was determined that his Lordship should have the
best in the market, and that he should have the credit of furnishing the
article. As a reward, therefore, for many past services, and a fresh claim
to his future exertions, Rigby one day broke to Gay that the hour had at