Byrom,—a poet of whom his native town, Manchester, may be justly proud; and his features and figure have been preserved by the most illustrious of his companions on the present occasion,—Hogarth,—in the levée in the "Rake's Progress," and in "Southwark Fair. I pray, Anna, that you may find your happiness. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. When I am angry, I can get very mean. His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps.
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