The history of Samuel Titmarsh ; and The book of snobs (Miscellanies, vol. I)

9781151244796: The history of Samuel Titmarsh ; and The book of snobs (Miscellanies, vol. I)
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1849 edition. Excerpt: ...murdering policemen; the public will sympathise good-naturedly with his amusements, and say he is a hearty, honest fellow. Suppose he is fond of play and the turf, and has a fancy to be a blackleg, and occasionally condescends to pluck a pigeon at cards; the public will pardon him, and many honest people will court him, as they would court a house-breaker, if he happened to be a Lord. Suppose he is an idiot; yet, by the glorious constitution, he 's good enough to govern us. Suppose he is an honest, high-minded gentleman; so much the better for himself. But he may be an ass, and yet respected; or a ruffian, and yet be exceedingly popular; or a rogue, and yet excuses will be found for him. Snobs will still worship him. Male Snobs will do him honour, and females look kindly upon him, however hideous he may be. CHAPTER VI. On some respectable Snobs. Having received a great deal of obloquy for dragging monarchs, princes, and the respected nobility into the Snob category, I trust to please everybody in the present chapter, by stating my firm opinion that it is among the Respectable classes of this vast and happy empire that the greatest profusion of Snobs is to be found. I pace down my beloved Baker Street (I am engaged on a life of Baker, founder of this celebrated Street), I walk in Harley Street (where every other house has a hatchment), Wimpole Street, that is as cheerful as the Catacombs--a dingy Mausoleum of the genteel:--I rove round Regent's Park, where the plaster is patching off the house walls; where Methodist preachers are holding forth to three little children in the green incisures, and puffy valetudinarians are cantering in the solitary mud:--I thread the doubtful zig-zags of May Fair, where Mrs. Kitty Lorimer's Brougham may be seen...

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