out, overturning and contradicting each other in a manner quite
astounding to the ignorant spectator. Mr. Callythorpe was meagre,
thin, sharp, and yellow. Whether from having a great propensity for
nailing stray acquaintances, or being particularly heavy company, or
from any other cause better known to the wits of the period than to
us, he was occasionally termed by his friends the "yellow hammer."
The peculiar characteristics of this gentleman were his sincerity and
friendship. These qualities led him into saying things the most
disagreeable, with the civilest and coolest manner in the world,--
always prefacing them with, "You know, my dear so-and-so, I am your
true friend." If this proof of amity was now and then productive of
altercation, Mr. Callythorpe, who was ha great patriot, had another and
a nobler plea,--"Sir," he would say, putting his hand to his heart,--
"sir, I'm an Englishman: I know not what it is to feign." Of a very
different stamp was Sir Christopher Findlater. Little cared he for
the subtleties of the human mind, and not much more for the
disagreeable duties of "an Englishman." Honest and jovial, red in the
cheeks, empty in the head, born to twelve thousand a year, educated in
the country, and heir to an earldom, Sir Christopher Findlater piqued
himself, notwithstanding his worldly advantages, usually so
destructive to the kindlier affections, on having the best heart in
the world, and this good heart, having a very bad head to regulate and
support it, was the perpetual cause of error to the owner and evil to
the public.

One evening, when Clarence was alone in his rooms, Mr. Trollolop
entered.

"My dear Linden," said the visitor, "how are you?"