Some days afterwards, MacGrawler sent our hero to Mr. Tomlinson's
lodgings, with his share of the joint abuse upon the poet.

Doubly was Paul's reverence for Mr. Augustus Tomlinson increased by a
sight of his abode. He found him settled in a polite part of the town,
in a very spruce parlour, the contents of which manifested the universal
genius of the inhabitant. It hath been objected unto us, by a most
discerning critic, that we are addicted to the drawing of "universal
geniuses." We plead Not Guilty in former instances; we allow the soft
impeachment in the instance of Mr. Augustus Tomlinson. Over his
fireplace were arranged boxing-gloves and fencing foils; on his table lay
a cremona and a flageolet. On one side of the wall were shelves
containing the Covent Garden Magazine, Burn's Justice, a pocket Horace, a
Prayer-Book, _Excerpta ex Tacito_, a volume of plays, Philosophy made
Easy, and a Key to all Knowledge. Furthermore, there were on another
table a riding-whip and a driving-whip and a pair of spurs, and three
guineas, with a little mountain of loose silver. Mr. Augustus was a
tall, fair young man, with a freckled complexion, green eyes and red
eyelids, a smiling mouth, rather under-jawed, a sharp nose, and a
prodigiously large pair of ears. He was robed in a green damask
dressing-gown; and he received the tender Paul most graciously.

There was something very engaging about our hero. He was not only
good-looking, and frank in aspect, but he had that appearance of
briskness and intellect which belongs to an embryo rogue. Mr. Augustus
Tomlinson professed the greatest regard for him,--asked him if he could
box, made him put on a pair of gloves, and very condescendingly knocked
him down three times successively. Next he played him, both upon his
flageolet and his cremona, some of the most modish airs. Moreover, he
sang him a little song of his own composing. He then, taking up the