le for place and precedence, myself the most
feverish wrangler of them all. But, on the principle that we are both,
in some sort, hawks, I think I may trust you to spare my eyes, while I
remind you of one or two incidents in which you bore a part.

And first BLENKINSOP knocks at the door of my memory. I bid him
enter, and I see a tall slim youth, not ill-favoured, wearing well-cut
clothes, and carrying a most beautiful, gold-topped Malacca cane
delicately in his hand. He is smoking a cigar, and complains to me
that his life is a succession of aimless days, and that he cannot find
any employment to turn his hand to. That very night, I remember, he
dined with me. We went to the play together, and afterwards looked in
at Lady ALICIA PARBOIL's dance. Dear Lady ALICIA, how plump she was,
and how good-natured, and how well she married her fiddle-headed
daughters. Her husband too, that clumsy, heavy-witted oaf, how
cunningly and how successfully withal she schemed for his advancement.
_Quid plura?_ you knew her well, she was devoted to you. I only speak
of her to remind you that it was in her hospitable rooms that GERVASE
BLENKINSOP met you--and his fate. He had danced for the second time
that evening with ELVIRA PARBOIL, and, having returned that blushing
virgin to her accustomed corner, was just about to depart when the
ample form of Lady ALICIA bore down upon him: "Oh, Mr. BLENKINSOP,"
her Ladyship began, "I really cannot allow you to go before I
introduce you to Mr. WILBRAHAM. I hear," she continued, "he has just
lost his Private Secretary, and who knows but that--" Here she paused,
and archly tapping her _protege's_ cheek with her fan, she bore him
off to introduce him to the Cabinet Minister. I watched the ceremony.
Something whispered to me that BLENKINSOP was lost. Must I go through
the whole painful story? He became Private Secretary to his new Right
Honourable friend, and from that moment he was a changed man. His
cheery good-nature vanished. Instead of it he cultivated an air of
pompous importance. One by one he weeded out his useless friends, and
attached to himself dull but potentially useful big wigs who possessed
titles and influence. At one of our last speaking interviews (we
only nod distantly now when we meet), he hinted that in the next
distribution of honours his name might be expected. It appeared, but,
alas for gratitude, he had to satisfy himself with a paltry K.C.M.G.,
which his wife (I forgot to say th