a stranger.
Perhaps you noticed that the lady smiled?"

"Yes; who is she?"

"Lady Coventry, sister of the Duchess of Hamilton."

"Ought I to apologize?"

"Not at all, the offence is not one of those which require an apology.
She must have been more surprised than offended, for she made fifteen
shillings by your paying her in gold."

I was vexed by this small mischance, for Lady Coventry was an exquisitely
beautiful brunette. I comforted myself, however, without much trouble.

The same day I made the acquaintance of Lord Hervey, the nobleman who
conquered Havana, a pleasant an intelligent person. He had married Miss
Chudleigh, but the marriage was annulled. This celebrated Miss Chudleigh
was maid of honour to the Princess Dowager of Wales, and afterwards
became Duchess of Kingston. As her history is well known I shall say
something more of her in due course. I went home well enough pleased with
my day's work.

The next day I began dining at home, and found my cook very satisfactory;
for, besides the usual English dishes, he was acquainted with the French
system of cooking, and did fricandeaus, cutlets, ragouts, and above all,
the excellent French soup, which is one of the principal glories of
France.

My table and my house were not enough for my happiness. I was alone, and
the reader will understand by this that Nature had not meant me for a
hermit. I had neither a mistress nor a friend, and at London one may
invite a man to dinner at a tavern where he pays for himself, but not to
one's own table. One day I was invited by a younger son of the Duke of
Bedford to eat oysters and drink a bottle of champagne. I accepted the
invitation, and he ordered the oysters and the champagne, but we drank
two bottles, and he made me pay half the price of the second bottle. Such
are manners on the other side of the Channel. People laughed in my face
when I said that I did not care to dine at a tavern as I could not get
any soup.

"Are you ill?" they said, "soup is only fit for invalids."

The Englishman is entirely carnivorous. He eats very little bread, and
calls himself economical because he spares himself the expense of soup
and dessert, which circumstance made me remark that an English dinner is
like eternity: it has no beginning and no end. Soup is considered very
extravagant, as the very servants refuse to eat the meat from which it
has been made. They say it is only fit to give to dogs. The salt beef
which they use is