CHAPTER XI.

He who would know mankind must be at home with all men.
STEPHEN MONTAGUE.

We left Clarence safely deposited in his little lodgings. Whether
from the heat of his apartment or the restlessness a migration of beds
produces in certain constitutions, his slumbers on the first night of
his arrival were disturbed and brief. He rose early and descended to
the parlour; Mr. de Warens, the nobly appellatived foot-boy, was
laying the breakfast-cloth. From three painted shelves which
constituted the library of "Copperas Bower," as its owners gracefully
called their habitation, Clarence took down a book very prettily
bound; it was "Poems by a Nobleman." No sooner had he read two pages
than he did exactly what the reader would have done, and restored the
volume respectfully to its place. He then drew his chair towards the
window, and wistfully eyed sundry ancient nursery maids, who were
leading their infant charges to the "fresh fields and pastures new" of
what is now the Regent's Park.

In about an hour Mrs. Copperas descended, and mutual compliments were
exchanged; to her succeeded Mr. Copperas, who was well scolded for his
laziness: and to them, Master Adolphus Copperas, who was also
chidingly termed a naughty darling for the same offence. Now then
Mrs. Copperas prepared the tea, which she did in the approved method
adopted by all ladies to whom economy is dearer than renown, namely,
the least possible quantity of the soi-disant Chinese plant was first
sprinkled by the least possible quantity of hot water; after this
mixture had become as black and as bitter as it could possibly be
without any adjunct from the apothecary's skill, it was suddenly