ption from such
annoyance, by entering Parliament to protect the liberties of the
people--an eloquent and resolute champion of freedom in trade, religion,
and everything else; and an abolitionist of everything, including,
especially, negro slavery and imprisonment for debt[2]--two execrable
violations of the natural rights of mankind.

But I have, for several minutes, lost sight of the admiring Titmouse.

"Why," thought he, "am _I_ thus spited by fortune?--The only thing she's
given _me_ is--nothing!--_D--n everything!_" exclaimed Mr. Titmouse
aloud, at the same time starting off, to the infinite astonishment of an
old peer, who had been for some minutes standing leaning against the
railing, close beside him; who was master of a magnificent fortune,
"with all appliances and means to boot;" with a fine grown-up family,
his eldest son and heir having just gained a Double First, and promising
wonders; possessing many mansions in different parts of England; a
reputation for exquisite taste and accomplishment; and being the
representative of one of the oldest families in England; but who at that
moment loathed everything and everybody, including himself, because the
minister had the day before intimated to him that he could not give him
a vacant ribbon, for which he had applied, unless he could command two
more votes in the Lower House, and which at present his lordship saw no
earthly means of doing. Yes, the Earl of Cheviotdale and Mr. Tittlebat
Titmouse were both miserable men; both had been hardly dealt with by
fortune; both were greatly to be pitied; and both quitted the Park,
about the same time, with a decided misanthropic tendency.

Mr. Titmouse walked along Piccadilly with a truly chopfallen and
disconsolate air. He very nearly felt dissatisfied even with his
personal appearance! Dress as he would, no one seemed to care a curse
for him; and, to his momentarily jaundiced eye, he seemed equipped in
only second-hand and shabby finery; and then he was really such a _poor_
devil!--Do not, however, let the reader suppose that this was an unusual
mood with Mr. Titmouse. No such thing. Like the Irishman who "married a
wife for to make him _un-aisy_;" and also not unlike the moth that
_will_ haunt the brightness which is her destruction; so poor Titmouse,
Sunday after Sunday, dressed himself out as elaborately as he had done
on the present occasion, and then always betook himself to the scene he
had just again witnessed, an