ou know, my dear fellow, when I looked round the room, there
was not a man who had not done his best to crush me; running down my
works or not noticing them, or continually dilating on Gushy as if
the English public would never read anything else. Now, that was
Christian-like of me, was not it? God, sir, if they only had but one
neck, and I had been the Emperor Nero--but, I will not dwell on it; I
hate them. However, it suits me to take the other line at present. I am
all for fraternity and that sort of thing, and give them dinners. There
is a reason why, but there is no time to talk about that now. I shall
want their sweet voices--the hounds! But, my dear fellow, I am truly
glad to see you. Do you know, I always liked you; and how come you to be
in this quarter this fine morning?"

"I live in the Albany," said Endymion.

"You live in the Albany!" repeated St. Barbe, with an amazed and
perturbed expression. "I knew I could not be a knight of the garter, or
a member of White's--the only two things an Englishman cannot command;
but I did think I might some day live in the Albany. It was my dream.
And you live there! Gracious! what an unfortunate fellow I am! I do not
see how you can live in the Albany with your salary; I suppose they have
raised you."

"I have left Somerset House," said Endymion, "and am now at the Board of
Trade, and am private secretary to Mr. Sidney Wilton."

"Oh!" said St. Barbe; "then we have friends at court. You may do
something for me, if I only knew what I wanted. They have no decorations
here. Curse this aristocratic country, they want all the honours to
themselves. I should like to be in the Board of Trade, and would make
some sacrifice for it. The proprietors of the 'Chuck-Farthing' pay well;
they pay like gentlemen; though, why I say so I do not exactly know, for
no gentleman ever paid me anything. But, if I could be Secretary of the
Board of Trade, or get 1500 pounds a year secure, I would take it; and
I dare say I could get employed on some treaties, as I speak French, and
then I might get knighted."

"Well, I think you are very well off," said Endymion; "carrying, as you
say, everything before you. What more can you want?"

"I hate the craft," said St. Barbe, with an expression of genuine
detestation; "I should like to show them all up before I died. I suppose
it was your sister marrying a lord that got you on in this way. I could
have married a countess myself, but then, to be sure,