exiled Altesse royale,--"you take a bundle--Miss--Chapman!"

They soon gained the High Street. Waife examined the fronts of the
various inns which they passed by with an eye accustomed to decipher the
physiognomy of hostelries. The Saracen's Head pleased him, though its
imposing size daunted Sophy. He arrested the steps of the porter,
"Follow me close," and stepped across the open threshold into the bar.
The landlady herself was there, portly and imposing, with an auburn
toupet, a silk gown, a cameo brooch, and an ample bosom.

"You have a private sitting-room, ma'am?" said the Comedian, lifting his
hat. There are so many ways of lifting a hat,-for instance, the way for
which Louis XIV. was so renowned. But the Comedian's way on the present
occasion rather resembled that of the late Duke of B--------, not quite
royal, but as near to royalty as becomes a subject. He added, recovering
his head,--"And on the first floor?" The landlady did not courtesy, but
she bowed, emerged from the bar, and set foot on the broad stairs; then,
looking back graciously, her eyes rested on Sir Isaac, who had stalked
forth in advance and with expansive nostrils sniffed. She hesitated.
"Your dog, sir! shall Boots take it round to the stables?"

"The stables, ma'am--the stables, my dear," turning to Sophy, with a
smile more ducal than the previous bow; "what would they say at home if
they heard that noble animal was consigned to-stables? Ma'am, my dog is
my companion, and as much accustomed to drawing-rooms as I am myself."
Still the landlady paused. The dog might be accustomed to drawing-rooms,
but her drawing-room was not accustomed to dogs. She had just laid down
a new carpet. And such are the strange and erratic affinities in nature,
such are the incongruous concatenations in the cross-stitch of ideas,
that there are associations between dogs and carpets, which, if wrongful