nd he was furnished by
Michael Allcraft with particulars explanatory of his commission. And
he walked into Lombard Street with the feelings of a culprit walking
up the scaffold to his execution. His pitiful heart deserted him at
the very instant when he most needed its support. He passed and
repassed the large door of the establishment, which he saw opened and
shut a hundred tines in a minute, by individuals, whose
self-collectedness and independence, he would have given half his
fortune to possess. He tried, time after time, to summon courage for
his entry, and, as he afterwards expressed it, a ball rose in his
throat--just as he got one foot upon the step--large enough to choke
him. Impudent and reckless us he had been all his life, he was now
more timid and nervous than an hysterical girl. Oh, what should he do!
First, he thought of going to a neighbouring hotel, and writing at
once to Allcraft; swearing that he was very ill, that he couldn't
move, and was utterly unable to perform his duties. If he went to bed,
and sent for a doctor, surely Allcraft would believe him; and in pity
would come up and do the business. He dwelt upon this contrivance,
until it seemed too complicated for success. Would it not be more
advisable to write to the London house itself, and explain the object
of his coming up? But if he could write, why couldn't he _call_? They
would certainly ask that question, and perhaps refuse the loan. Oh,
what was he to do! He could hit upon no plan, and he couldn't muster
confidence to turn in. The porter of the firm mercifully interposed to
rescue Mr Brammel from his dilemma. That functionary had watched the
stranger shuffling to and fro in great anxiety and doubt, and at
length he deemed it proper to enquire whether the gentleman was
looking for the doorway of the house of Messrs ---- and ----, or not.
Augustus, frightened, answered _yes_ at random, and in another instant
found himself in what he called "THE SWEATING ROOM of the awfullest
house of business he had ever seen in all his life." It was a large
square apartment, very lofty and very naked-looking. There was an iron
chest, and two shelves filled with giant books; and there was nothing
else in the room but a stillness, and a mouldiness of smell, that hung
upon his spirits like pounds of lead, dragging them down, and freezing
them. Yet, cold as were his spirits, the perspiration that oozed from
the pores of his skin was profuse and steady during th