threadbare coat and a knapsack at his back. Yet,
withal, the young man had the air of a gentleman,--not gentleman as the
word is understood in St. James's, the gentleman of the noble and idle
class, but the gentleman as the title is accorded, by courtesy, to all
to whom both education and the habit of mixing with educated persons
gives a claim to the distinction and imparts an air of refinement. The
new-comer was strongly built, at once lean and large,--far more strongly
built than Percival St. John, but without his look of cheerful and
comely health. His complexion had not the florid hues that should have
accompanied that strength of body; it was pale, though not sickly; the
expression grave, the lines deep, the face strongly marked. By his
side trotted painfully a wiry, yellowish, footsore Scotch terrier. Beau
sprang from his master's caress, cocked his handsome head on one side,
and suspended in silent halt his right fore-paw. Percival cast over his
left shoulder a careless glance at the intruder. The last heeded neither
Beau nor Percival. He slipped his knapsack to the ground, and the Scotch
terrier sank upon it, and curled himself up into a ball. The wayfarer
folded his arms tightly upon his breast, heaved a short, unquiet sigh,
and cast over the giant city, from under deep-pent, lowering brows,
a look so earnest, so searching, so full of inexpressible, dogged,
determined power, that Percival, roused out of his gay indifference,
rose and regarded him with curious interest.

In the mean while Beau had very leisurely approached the bilious-looking
terrier; and after walking three times round him, with a stare and a
small sniff of superb impertinence, halted with great composure, and
lifting his hind leg--O Beau, Beau, Beau! your historian blushes for
your breeding, and, like Sterne's recording angel, drops a tear upon the
stain which washes it from the register--but not, alas, from the back
of the bilious terrier! The space around was wide, Beau; you had all the
world to choose: why select so specially for insult the single spot
on which reposed the wornout and unoffending? O dainty Beau! O dainty
world! Own the truth, both of ye. There is something irresistibly
provocative of insult in the back of a shabby-looking dog! The poor
terrier, used to affronts, raised its heavy eyelids, and shot the gleam
of just indignation from its dark eyes. But it neither stirred nor
growled, and Beau, extremely pleased with his achieve