an,
a Christian, and a man of honour. Maxima debetur puero reverentia.
Give him my compliments. I don't know his highly respectable name.' His
highly respectable name," says Clive, cracking with laughter--"those
were his very words. 'And inform him that I am an orphan myself--in
needy circumstances'--he said he was in needy circumstances; 'and I
heartily wish he'd adopt me.'"

The lad puffed out his face, made his voice as loud and as deep as he
could; and from his imitation and the picture he had drawn, I knew at
once that Fred Bayham was the man he mimicked.

"And does the Red Rover live here," cried Mr. Pendennis, "and have we
earthed him at last?"

"He sometimes comes here," Mr. Honeyman said with a careless manner. "My
landlord and landlady were butler and housekeeper to his father, Bayham
of Bayham, one of the oldest families in Europe. And Mr. Frederick
Bayham, the exceedingly eccentric person of whom you speak, was a
private pupil of my own dear father in our happy days at Borehambury."

He had scarcely spoken when a knock was heard at the door, and before
the occupant of the lodgings could say "Come in!" Mr. Frederick Bayham
made his appearance, arrayed in that peculiar costume which he affected.
In those days we wore very tall stocks, only a very few poetic and
eccentric persons venturing on the Byron collar; but Fred Bayham
confined his neck by a simple ribbon, which allowed his great red
whiskers to curl freely round his capacious jowl. He wore a black frock
and a large broad-brimmed hat, and looked somewhat like a Dissenting
preacher. At other periods you would see him in a green coat and a blue
neckcloth, as if the turf or the driving of coaches was his occupation.

"I have heard from the young man of the house who you were, Colonel
Newcome," he said with the greatest gravity, "and happened to be
present, sir, the other night; for I was aweary, having been toiling all
the day in literary labour, and needed some refreshment. I happened to
be present, sir, at a scene which did you the greatest honour, and of
which I spoke, not knowing you, with something like levity to your son.
He is an ingenui vultus puer ingenuique pudoris--Pendennis, how are you?
And I thought, sir, I would come down and tender an apology if I had
said any words that might savour of offence to a gentleman who was in
the right, as I told the room when you quitted it, as Mr. Pendennis, I
am sure, will remember."

Mr. Pendennis looke