shaken at every motion of his horse's feet; a more
grotesque or more ungainly figure can hardly be conceived. In lieu of
whip, he carried in his hand a great gold-headed cane, as large as any
footman carries in these days, and his various modes of holding this
unwieldy weapon--now upright before his face like the sabre of a
horse-soldier, now over his shoulder like a musket, now between
his finger and thumb, but always in some uncouth and awkward
fashion--contributed in no small degree to the absurdity of his
appearance. Stiff, lank, and solemn, dressed in an unusual manner,
and ostentatiously exhibiting--whether by design or accident--all his
peculiarities of carriage, gesture, and conduct, all the qualities,
natural and artificial, in which he differed from other men; he might
have moved the sternest looker-on to laughter, and fully provoked the
smiles and whispered jests which greeted his departure from the Maypole
inn.

Quite unconscious, however, of the effect he produced, he trotted on
beside his secretary, talking to himself nearly all the way, until they
came within a mile or two of London, when now and then some passenger
went by who knew him by sight, and pointed him out to some one else, and
perhaps stood looking after him, or cried in jest or earnest as it might
be, 'Hurrah Geordie! No Popery!' At which he would gravely pull off his
hat, and bow. When they reached the town and rode along the streets,
these notices became more frequent; some laughed, some hissed, some
turned their heads and smiled, some wondered who he was, some ran along
the pavement by his side and cheered. When this happened in a crush of
carts and chairs and coaches, he would make a dead stop, and pulling
off his hat, cry, 'Gentlemen, No Popery!' to which the gentlemen would
respond with lusty voices, and with three times three; and then, on he
would go again with a score or so of the raggedest, following at his
horse's heels, and shouting till their throats were parched.

The old ladies too--there were a great many old ladies in the streets,
and these all knew him. Some of them--not those of the highest rank,
but such as sold fruit from baskets and carried burdens--clapped their
shrivelled hands, and raised a weazen, piping, shrill 'Hurrah, my
lord.' Others waved their hands or handkerchiefs, or shook their fans
or parasols, or threw up windows and called in haste to those within,
to come and see. All these marks of popular esteem, he