Me thought, in fine, that the dreams of poets were the realities of
life. He was handsome, frank, and rich: for these reasons, upon his
entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him, striving
which should describe with least truth their languishing or romping
favourites: the daughters at the same time, by their brightening
countenances when he approached, and by their sparkling eyes, when he
opened his lips, soon led him into false notions of his talents and
his merit. Attached as lie was to the romance of his solitary hours,
he was startled at finding, that, except in the tallow and wax candles
that flickered, not from the presence of a ghost, but from want of
snuffing, there was no foundation in real life for any of that
congeries of pleasing pictures and descriptions contained in those
volumes, from which he had formed his study. Finding, however, some
compensation in his gratified vanity, he was about to relinquish his
dreams, when the extraordinary being we have above described, crossed
him in his career.

He watched him; and the very impossibility of forming an idea of the
character of a man entirely absorbed in himself, who gave few other
signs of his observation of external objects, than the tacit assent to
their existence, implied by the avoidance of their contact: allowing
his imagination to picture every thing that flattered its propensity
to extravagant ideas, he soon formed this object into the hero of a
romance, and determined to observe the offspring of his fancy, rather
than the person before him. He became acquainted with him, paid him
attentions, and so far advanced upon his notice, that his presence was
always recognised. He gradually learnt that Lord Ruthven's affairs
were embarrassed, and soon found, from the notes of preparation in --
Street, that he was about to travel. Desirous of gaining some
information respecting this singular character, who, till now, had