ly avoiding what
might be deemed the impertinence of assuming the colors of party, I
selected a claret-colored coat, with steel buttons; a richly-embroidered
waistcoat; and for my cravat one of French cambric, with a deep fall of
Mechlin lace. If I mention matters so trivial, it is because at the time
to which I refer, the modes of dress were made not only to represent the
sections of politics, but to distinguish between those who adhered to
an antiquated school of breeding and manners, and those who now avowed
themselves the disciples of a new teaching. I wished, if possible, to
avoid either extreme, and assumed the colors and the style usually worn
by foreigners in English society. Like them, too, I wore a sword and
buckles; for the latter I went to the extravagance of paying two guineas
for the mere hire.

If you have ever felt in life, good reader, what it was to have awaited
in anxious expectancy for the day of some great examination whose issue
was to have given the tone to all your future destiny, you may form some
notion of the state of mental excitement in which I passed the ensuing
twenty-four hours. It was to no purpose that I said to myself all that
my reason could suggest or my ingenuity fancy; a certain instinct,
stronger than reason, more convincing than ingenuity, told me that this
was about to be an eventful moment of' my life.

The hour at length arrived; the carriage that was to convey me stood at
the door; and as I took a look at myself, full dressed and powdered, in
the glass, I remember that my sensations vibrated between the exulting
vanity and pride of a gallant about to set out for a fete, and the
terrors of a criminal on his way to the block. My head grew more and
more confused as I drove along. At moments I thought that all was a
dream, and I tried to arouse and wake myself; then I fancied that it was
the past was fictitious,--that my poverty, my want, and my hardship were
all imaginary; that my real condition was one of rank and affluence.
I examined the rich lace of my ruffles, the sparkling splendor of my
sword-knot, and said, "Surely these are not the signs of squalid misery
and want." I called to mind my impressions of the world, my memories of
life and society, and asked, "Can these be the sentiments of a miserable
outcast?" Assuredly, my poor brain was sorely tried to reconcile these
strong contradictions; nor do I yet understand how I obtained
sufficient mastery over my emotions to pr