The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 362: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE LISTENER dol of wine after your walk, and a nice bit of cake? And if my lodgings should happen to become vacant, you will have such opportunities, you know, to recommend them to a Member of Parliament, and you can speak an excellent word in my favour, for you recollect how good I always was to you both.” Christian certainly must have been troubled with a very short memory at the time, for he could not recollect any particular boon conferred upon himself and his sister by Mrs. Macaulay, unless indeed it were the recommendation to Mr. Samuel Emanuel, which, however well-meant, had nevertheless entailed upon his sister nothing but insult. As she continued to press the refreshment of wine and cake, — both, be it understood, having descended from Mr. Red- cliffe’s apartments, — he again declined the offer, but with a becoming courtesy. ‘‘ And so you are secretary to a duke? ”’ ‘alas exclaimed, surveying Christian with as much admiration as if he were some rare animal just brought over from distant parts and lodged in the Zodlogical Gardens, ‘“‘ and you must therefore sit alone with his Grace for hours and hours. Well, I never spoke to a duke in my life, and I don’t think I ever saw a live one, — at least not to my knowledge. But I saw a dead duke once. It was in Edinburgh, during poor dear Mr. Macaulay’s time, for to tell you the truth, he was an under- taker, and I went with him when he measured the body for the coffin. And your sister is companion to Lady Octavian Meredith? and I suppose her ladyship makes much of your dear Christina? Well, I am delighted to find that you have got on so well in the world. You will make your fortunes. Ah! I never shall forget how I cried that time when you came and told me how Mr. Emanuel acted. I didn’t choose to shed tears in your presence, because I was afraid it would dispirit you both, but when you were gone, I sat down and did have a good cry, and that’s the truth of it. Dear me, to think of those Emanuels. Why, I knew Samuel Emanuel when he was an orange boy, selling his fruit to the passengers that went off by the coaches from the White Horse, Piccadilly. Then he took to selling knives with twenty-four blades, not one of which, between you and me, would even cut so much as your nail. Next I found Mr. Samuel Emanuel going about with a bag at his back, GoOmiilGoaoo a Ss (CO)