Horace Smith, The Tin Trumpet.
ASHION with us is like the man in one of Le Sage's novels, who was constantly changing his servants, and yet had but one suit of livery, which every newcomer, whether he was tall or short, fat or thin, was obliged to wear.
Wormwood, in Lord Lytton's Pelham.
NMARKETABLE maidens of the mart,
Who, plumpness gone, fine delicacy feint,
And hide your sins in piety and paint.
Alfred Austin, The Season.
EEING O. Smith, the popular melodramatic actor, on the opposite side of the Strand, Knowles rushed across the road, seized him by the hand, and inquired eagerly after his health. Smith, who only knew him by sight, said, "I think, Mr. Knowles, you are mistaken; I am O. Smith." "My dear fellow," cried Knowles, "I beg you ten thousand pardons: I took you for your namesake, T. P. Cooke!"