the provinces from Massachusetts to North Carolina. You will see little
besides hard-working, self-respecting Englishmen, loyal to a king who
deserves loyalty as little as Louis of France. But with their eyes open,
and despite the course he has taken. They are men whose measure of
resolution is not guessed at."

He was silent again until we had got into Piccadilly and opposite his
lodgings.

"Are they all like you?" he demanded.

"Who?" said I. For I had forgotten my words.

"The Americans."

"The greater part feel as I do."

"I suppose you are for bed," he remarked abruptly.

"The night is not yet begun," I answered, repeating his favourite words,
and pointing at the glint of the sun on the windows.

"What do you say to a drive behind those chestnuts of mine, for a breath
of air? I have just got my new cabriolet Selwyn ordered in Paris."

Soon we were rattling over the stones in Piccadilly, wrapped in
greatcoats, for the morning wind was cold. We saw the Earl of March and
Ruglen getting out of a chair before his house, opposite the Green Park,
and he stopped swearing at the chairmen to wave at us.

"Hello, March!" Mr. Fox said affably, "you're drunk."

His Lordship smiled, bowed graciously if unsteadily to me, and did not
appear to resent the pleasantry. Then he sighed.

"What a pair of cubs it is," said he; "I wish to God I was young again.
I hear you astonished the world again last night, Charles."

We left him being assisted into his residence by a sleepy footman, paid
our toll at Hyde Park Corner, and rolled onward toward Kensington, Fox
laughing as we passed the empty park at the thought of what had so lately
occurred there. After the close night of St. Stephen's, nature seemed
doubly beautiful. The sun slanted over the water in the gardens in bars
of green and gold. The bright new leaves were on the trees, and the
morning dew had brought with it the smell of the living earth. We passed
the stream of market wagons lumbering along, pulled by sturdy, patient
farm-horses, driven by smocked countrymen, who touched their caps to the
fine gentlemen of the court end of town; who shook their heads and
exchanged deep tones over the whims of quality, unaccountable as the
weather. But one big-chested fellow arrested his salute, a scowl came
over his face, and he shouted back to the wagoner whose horses were
munching his hay:

"Hi, Jeems, keep down yere hands. Mr. Fox is noo friend of we."

This brought a ha