Page:The New Monthly Magazine - Volume 011.djvu/27

because desired so to do by an old aunt. No such case occurs to me, off hand, but many are doubtless to be met with in the books.

But of all advisers, commend me to Charles Partington, the youngest son; who, as I before mentioned, is bred to the law. To be sure the young man has suffered advice in his time, about giving up Lord Byron and sticking to the Term Reports, but that is no reason for his inflicting it so unmercifully upon others. Charles always advises his two sisters whom to dance with, and where to buy their white kid gloves and Albums. He advised his aunt Isabella by all means to go to the University Club-house, to meet the Duchess of Gloucester: aunt Isabella complied, with a private hope of meeting a cherry-cheeked fiddler from Oriel, who wrote Mus. Bac. Oxon. after his name: but she lay four hours upon the stairs, and after all missed the fiddler. He also advised his said aunt to go to Cross-street, Hatton-garden, where there is more advice wasted than in all the Metropolis besides. Aunt Isabella complied, but did not much like it. She objected to the phrase of "a guilty heart striking its fangs into its own proper bosom," alleging that a heart has no fangs; and that though a bosom has a heart, it by no means follows that a heart has a bosom. I fear she is growing too nice in her metaphors. Charles Partington's last advices are scattered upon his cousin Emily Green, who was courted by Captain Taper. Charles advised her by no means to think of him, and then trotted all over London in quest of proofs. These did not extend beyond shewing the lover to be a swindler, a drunkard, and a debauchee; but they seemed to answer every purpose. Emily cried; and, possessed by her adviser of all the Captain's frailties in a focus, said she was now quite happy: she could never sufficiently thank her cousin Charles for the good advice he had given her: she begged he would take charge of a whole packet of love-letters and deliver them to the Captain, receiving hers in exchange. Charles snatched up the deposit, and ran across the Park to Arabella-row, Pimlico, as hard as he could lay leg to ground. He found the Captain at home, and, after giving him a world of good advice with respect to paying his debts and leaving off wine and women, laid his budget of epistles upon the table. The Captain, with sorrowful solemnity, gave up Emily's letters in return; and as a parting request, urged Charles Partington to deliver a final leavetaking letter to Emily. Charles (with a sagacity which hereafter must make him a Master in Chancery, at least) complied with the lover's request; and on his return, advised Emily as a friend not to read it. Emily said she would not, but told him he might as well leave it on the table. Charles did leave it on the table. (A Master in Chancery? phoo! he will be a Master of the Rolls!) and, in a week, the Morning Post told the world that Captain Taper and Emily Green were man and wife.

With these, and many other examples that might be cited, surely it is high time to have done with advice altogether. Why should not a certain association prefix a syllable to the commodity they aim to crush, and dub themselves the Society for the Suppression of Ad-vice? Or why should not Mr. Rothschild institute a Grand Alliance Advice Company, into which every friend of every family might cast his stock of spare wisdom his might be afterwards sold in shares. Individuals might apply at the office for advice when they wanted it, and state their respective cases; with a fee of three guineas, "to advise as within." Nothing is worth having that is not paid for!