Bachelors

The Bachelor most joyfully
In pleasant plight doth pass his daies,
Good fellowship and companie
He doth maintain and kepe alwaies.

EVANS' OLD BALLADS.

There is no character in the comedy of human life that is more difficult
to play well than that of an old bachelor. When a single gentleman,
therefore, arrives at that critical period when he begins to consider it
an impertinent question to be asked his age, I would advise him to look
well to his ways. This period, it is true, is much later with some men
than with others; I have witnessed more than once the meeting of two
wrinkled old lads of this kind, who had not seen each other for several
years, and have been amused by the amicable exchange of compliments on
each other's appearance that takes place on such occasions. There is
always one invariable observation, "Why, bless my soul! you look younger
than when last I saw you!" Whenever a man's friends begin to compliment
him about looking young, he may be sure that they think he is growing
old.

I am led to make these remarks by the conduct of Master Simon and the
general, who have become great cronies. As the former is the younger by
many years, he is regarded as quite a youthful gallant by the general,
who moreover looks upon him as a man of great wit and prodigious
acquirements. I have already hinted that Master Simon is a family beau,
and considered rather a young fellow by all the elderly ladies of the
connexion; for an old bachelor, in an old family connexion, is something
like an actor in a regular dramatic corps, who seems "to flourish in
immortal youth," and will continue to play the Romeos and Rangers for
half a century together.

Master Simon, too, is a little of the chameleon, and takes a different
hue with every different companion; he is very attentive and officious,
and somewhat sentimental, with Lady Lillycraft; copies out little
namby-pamby ditties and love-songs for her, and draws quivers, and
doves, and darts, and Cupids, to be worked in the corners of her pocket
handkerchiefs. He indulges, however, in very considerable latitude with
the other married ladies of the family; and has many sly pleasantries to
whisper to them, that provoke an equivocal laugh and tap of the fan. But
when he gets among young company, such as Frank Bracebridge, the
Oxonian, and the general, he is apt to put on the mad wig, and to talk
in a very bachelor-like strain about the sex.

In this he has been encouraged by the example of the general, whom he
looks up to as a man who has seen the world. The general, in fact, tells
shocking stories after dinner, when the ladies have retired, which he
gives as some of the choice things that are served up at the