She lost it in the Mint. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. There was so much to see, so much to do, that he became what he had once been normally, a lovable boy. “I say, Vee. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. But, in spite of his outcries and resistance, he was dragged along by Jonathan and his janizaries. Without stopping to inquire into the cause of their mirth, or even to ask the names of his guests, the worthy carpenter shook hands with the one-eyed chapmen, slapped Mr. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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