necessity of troubling its inmates for 'salt.' There was no delay. The
Lord of the equipage, with the amiable condescension of a 'grand
monarque,' expressed his hope that the collection would be an ample one,
and as an old Etonian, placed in the hands of the Albanian his
contribution, a magnificent purse, furnished for the occasion, and heavy
with gold.

'Don't be alarmed, ladies,' said a very handsome young officer, laughing,
and taking off his cocked hat.

'Ah!' exclaimed one of the ladies, turning at the voice, and starting a
little. 'Ah! it is Mr. Coningsby.'

Lord Eskdale paid the salt for the next carriage. 'Do they come down
pretty stiff?' he inquired, and then, pulling forth a roll of bank-notes
from the pocket of his pea-jacket, he wished them good morning.

The courtly Provost, then the benignant Goodall, a man who, though his
experience of life was confined to the colleges in which he had passed his
days, was naturally gifted with the rarest of all endowments, the talent
of reception; and whose happy bearing and gracious manner, a smile ever in
his eye and a lively word ever on his lip, must be recalled by all with
pleasant recollections, welcomed Lord Monmouth and his friends to an
assemblage of the noble, the beautiful, and the celebrated gathered
together in rooms not unworthy of them, as you looked upon their
interesting walls, breathing with the portraits of the heroes whom Eton
boasts, from Wotton to Wellesley. Music sounded in the quadrangle of the
College, in which the boys were already quickly assembling. The Duke of
Wellington had arrived, and the boys were cheering a hero, who was an Eton
field-marshal. From an oriel window in one of the Provost's rooms, Lord