re it would
suit such a one as you better than London."

"But occupation, Mr. Hunsden! I must go where occupation is to be had;
and how could I get recommendation, or introduction, or employment at
Brussels?"

"There speaks the organ of caution. You hate to advance a step before
you know every inch of the way. You haven't a sheet of paper and a
pen-and-ink?"

"I hope so," and I produced writing materials with alacrity; for I
guessed what he was going to do. He sat down, wrote a few lines, folded,
sealed, and addressed a letter, and held it out to me.

"There, Prudence, there's a pioneer to hew down the first rough
difficulties of your path. I know well enough, lad, you are not one of
those who will run their neck into a noose without seeing how they
are to get it out again, and you're right there. A reckless man is
my aversion, and nothing should ever persuade me to meddle with the
concerns of such a one. Those who are reckless for themselves are
generally ten times more so for their friends."

"This is a letter of introduction, I suppose?" said I, taking the
epistle.

"Yes. With that in your pocket you will run no risk of finding yourself
in a state of absolute destitution, which, I know, you will regard as a
degradation--so should I, for that matter. The person to whom you will
present it generally has two or three respectable places depending upon
his recommendation."

"That will just suit me," said I.

"Well, and where's your gratitude?" demanded Mr. Hunsden; "don't you
know how to say 'Thank you?'"

"I've fifteen pounds and a watch, which my godmother, whom I never saw,
gave me eighteen years ago," was my rather irrelevant answer; and I
further avowed myself a happy man, and professed that I did not envy any
being in Christendom.

"But your gratitude?"

"I shall be off presently, Mr. Hunsden--to-morrow, if all be well: I'll
not stay a day longer in X---- than I'm obliged."

"Very good--but it will be decent to make due acknowledgment for the
assistance you have received; be quick! It is just going to strike
seven: I'm waiting to be thanked."

"Just stand out of the way, will you, Mr. Hunsden: I want a key there is
on the corner of the mantelpiece. I'll pack my portmanteau before I go
to bed."

The house clock struck seven.

"The lad is a heathen," said Hunsden, and taking his hat from a
sideboard, he left the room, laughing to himself. I had half an
inclination to follow him: I really intended