CHAPTER IX.

Therefore to France.
--Henry IV.

I was rejoiced to find myself again in London. I went to my father's
house in Grosvenor-square. All the family, viz. he and my mother, were
down at H--t--d; and, malgre my aversion to the country, I thought I
might venture as far as Lady S--'s for a couple of days. Accordingly, to
H--t--d I went. That is really a noble house--such a hall--such a
gallery. I found my mother in the drawing-room, admiring the picture of
his late Majesty. She was leaning on the arm of a tall, fair young man.
"Henry," said she, (introducing me to him) "do you remember your old
schoolfellow, Lord George Clinton?"

"Perfectly," said I, (though I remembered nothing about him) and we shook
hands in the most cordial manner imaginable. By the way, there is no
greater bore than being called upon to recollect men, with whom one had
been at school some ten years back. In the first place, if they were not
in one's own set, one most likely scarcely knew them to speak to; and, in
the second place, if they were in one's own set, they are sure to be
entirely opposite to the nature we have since acquired: for I scarcely
ever knew an instance of the companions of one's boyhood being agreeable
to the tastes of one's manhood: a strong proof of the folly of common
people, who send their sons to Eton and Harrow to form connections.

Clinton was on the eve of setting out upon his travels. His intention was
to stay a year at Paris, and he was full of the blissful expectations the
idea of that city had conjured up. We remained together all the evening,
and took a prodigious fancy to one another. Long before I went to bed, he