ABSTRACT
There are people who have but one idea: at least, if they have more, they keep it a secret, for they never talk but of one subject. There are some who fancy the Corn Bill the root of all evil, and others who trace all the miseries of life to the practice of muffling up children in night-clothes when they sleep or travel. There are people who would tease anyone to death with some one idea, but generally differing in their favourite notion from the rest of the world; and it is the love of distinction which is mostly at the bottom of this peculiarity. There are persons, who though they run over a thousand subjects in mere gaiety of heart, their delight still flows from one idea, namely, themselves. They are a sort of Jacks o' the Green, with a sprig of laurel, but still keeping in incessant motion, to attract attention and extort your pittance of approbation.
