CHAPTER XLVIII.

Mons. Jourdain. Etes-vous fou de l'aller quereller' lui qui
entend la tierce et la quarte, et qui sait tuer un homme par
raison demonstrative?

Le Maitre a Danser. Je me moque de sa raison demonstrative,
et de sa tierce et de sa quarte.
--Moliere.

"Hollo, my good friend; how are you?--d--d glad to see you in England,"
vociferated a loud, clear, good-humoured voice, one cold morning, as I
was shivering down Brook-street, into Bond-street. I turned, and beheld
Lord Dartmore, of Rocher de Cancale memory. I returned his greeting with
the same cordiality with which it was given: and I was forthwith saddled
with Dartmore's arm, and dragged up Bond-street, into that borough of all
noisy, riotous, unrefined, good fellows--yclept--'s Hotel.

Here we were soon plunged into a small, low apartment, which Dartmore
informed me was his room. It was crowded with a score of masculine
looking youths, at whose very appearance my gentler frame shuddered from
head to foot. However, I put as good a face on the matter as I possibly
could, and affected a freedom and frankness of manner, correspondent with
the unsophisticated tempers with which I was so unexpectedly brought into
contact.