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Because her friend, Mrs. Pimlico, Miss Coxeater that was, had a house in Weymouth-street; whilst she was forced to keep on being buried in Cranbourne-alley. Mr. Ludgate was moved by his wife's tears, and by his own ambition, and took a house in Weymouth-street. But before they had been there six weeks, the fair one was again found bathed in tears. And why? "Because," said Belle, "because, Mr.
Was it not better to be the first person in Cranbourne-alley than the last in Weymouth-street? New wants and wishes continually arose in their new situation. They must live like other people. Everybody, that is, everybody in Weymouth-street, did so and so; and, therefore, they must do the same.
Those who estimate happiness not by the real comforts or luxuries which they enjoy, but by comparison between themselves and their neighbours, must be subject to continual mortification and discontent. Far from being happier than they were formerly, Mr. and Mrs. Ludgate were much more miserable after their removal to Weymouth-street.
"I've never seen you in Weymouth-street before! How comes it you never called, if it was only to see our new house? I'm sure I should always be very happy to have you here when we've nobody with us; and I'm quite sorry as I can't ask you to stay and take a bit of mutton with us to-day, because I'm engaged to dine in Bond-street, with Mrs. Pimlico's cousin, pretty Mrs.
When they got to Weymouth-street, they gave only a single knock at the door, that they might not create any alarm. They were kept waiting a considerable time, and at last the door was opened by a slip-shod cook-maid, who seemed to be just up, though it was near eleven o'clock.
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