there exists a deadly feud, to
comport themselves with decent reserve toward each other, than to go
vaporing about on crutches, stamping the foot that is not gouty, and
blaspheming in a weak, cracked treble, like Capulet and Montague? Hot
rooms and cold draughts are dangerous, but not so fatal as the Aqua
Tofana, and other pleasant beverages more revolting and rapid in their
effects. Could any thing be more harrowing to a well regulated mind than
to see, in the midst of a neatly-turned compliment, one's partner
literally _look black_ at one, and expire incontinently in great
torments?

It is less romantic, but I prefer to be given an unmedicated rose. When
I win a pair of gloves, it is a satisfaction to me to reflect that in
Houbigant or Pivert there is no venom or guile.

All these consoling thoughts, and more, passed through my mind that
evening; yet I could not get rid of a strange, indistinct impression
that it was only the presence of Livingstone which averted some great
danger imminent over his cousin and Forrester.

CHAPTER XIII.

"This is all
The gain we reap, from all the wisdom sown
Through ages. Nothing doubted those first sons
Of time; while we, the schooled of centuries,
Nothing believe--"

We were scattered round the smoking-room, about midnight, in different
attitudes of repose. Bruce was of the party, decidedly out of his
element. He did not like tobacco much, and only took a cigar as a
sacrifice to the exigencies of the occasion, consuming the same with
great toil and exertion of the lungs, and when he removed it from his
lips, holding it at arm's length, like a viper or other venomous beast.

"Charley," asked Fallowfield, at length, from the depths of his divan,
"how is the regiment going on? Insolvent as ever?"

"More so," was the reply. "When I came away they were thinking of
framing a L5 note, and hanging it up in the ante-room, to show that we
had _some_ money--just like the man who pitched loaves over the
city-walls when they were dying of famine--but there was a difficulty
about procuring one. However, we have been promised the son of an
opulent brewer or distiller (I forget which, but I know he makes
something to drink), who is to join before Easter. Perhaps he may set us
afloat again."

"Yes," Guy remarked; "fortunately, a martial spirit is abroad in the
Third Estate. _Walbrook s'en va t'en guerre_. If there is one moneyed