Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 011.djvu/24

There is a family named Partington, that has lately commenced its residence in Upper Harley-street. It consists of a father, a mother, two sons, and two daughters. The father is a sturdy, red-faced, good sort of man, and the mother is a slender, sallow, good sort of woman. John, the elder son, is with his father in the wine and spirit line, in America-square; Charles, the younger son, is in the law: the two girls expect to be married. There is at present a great deal of Advice stirring about London, and the Partingtons have given and received more than their due proportion of it. It has often astonished me why so much of that commodity has been, and continues to be given: nobody thanks you for it: indeed, nine people out of ten tell you, in pretty plain terms, to keep your advice to yourself—yet still we continue to give it. Never was benevolence more gratuitous than ours!

Hardly was old Partington well settled in Upper Harley-street, in a most commodious situation, inasmuch as it commanded a corner view of the outside of the Diorama, with a peep at the little statue of the late Duke of Kent at the top of Portland-place, when he received a visit from his crony Mr. Chapman, of Devonshire-square, Bishopsgate-street, who called to give him some advice as to his recent proceedings. Mr. Chapman commenced his harangue in one of the accustomed forms: "Now, Mr. Partington, I am sure you have too much good sense to be offended at what I am about to say:" Mr. Partington assured him, in answer, that he had a great deal too much good sense; whereupon the adviser, in reply, began to descant upon the extreme folly of Mr. Partington in quitting his city residence to sojourn in Upper Harley-street. The adviser reminded the advisee of those happy days when, Bedlam being then standing upon London Wall, they used to walk up and down Moorfields in front of the iron gates of that edifice, for half an hour before dinner, to get an appetite. A needless ceremony, but persisted in notwithstanding. Mr. Partington owned, with downcast eyes, that such had been their practice; but alleged in his defence, that nobody lived in the city at present,—"even Bedlam has deserted it," exclaimed he, with a sigh. "True," answered the adviser, "and if you had removed your quarters to St. George’s Fields, I should not have so much wondered; but what the deuce could draw you to Upper Harley-street? Why, now, there was last Thursday, you gave us a dinner; the party consisted of Tom Jackson, Chatfield, Shuttleworth, Newman, and myself. Jackson lives in Watling-street, Chatfield in Crutched Friars, Shuttleworth in Barbican, Newman in Sise-lane, and I in Devonshire-square. We came, as you may remember, in a hackney-coach together, and we talked you and your family over all the way, from Cheapside to the corner of Cavendish-square. We each of us agreed to give you some good advice with respect to coming back again to the city: but, somehow, when it came to the push, nobody was bold enough to begin. Let me now advise you as a friend: if you have not yet signed and sealed, declare off, and come back again. We have dined with you once, in the way of friendship; but, my dear Jonathan, when you could have us all to dinner in a ring fence, within one hundred yards of the