your hotel. And now," said he, again changing his voice to its
natural tone of kindliness and courtesy,--"and now, my boy, good-by, and a
safe journey to you. These letters will pay your expenses, and the occasion
save you all the worry of leave-taking."

I stood confused and speechless, unable to utter a single word of gratitude
for such unexpected kindness. The duke saw at once my difficulty, and as he
shook me warmly by the hand, added, in a laughing tone,--

"Don't wait, now; you mustn't forget that your despatches are pressing."

I bowed deeply, attempted a few words of acknowledgment, hesitated,
blundered, broke down, and at last got out of the room, Heaven knows how,
and found myself running towards Long's at the top of my speed. Within that
same hour I was rattling along towards Bristol as fast as four posters
could burn the pavement, thinking with ecstasy over the pleasures of my
reception in England; but far more than all, of the kindness evinced
towards me by him who, in every feeling of his nature, and in every feature
of his deportment was "every inch a prince."

However astonished I had been at the warmth, by which I was treated in
London, I was still less prepared for the enthusiasm which greeted me in
every town through which I passed. There was not a village where we stopped
to change horses whose inhabitants did not simultaneously pour forth to
welcome me with every demonstration of delight. That the fact of four
horses and a yellow chaise should have elicited such testimonies of
satisfaction, was somewhat difficult to conceive; and even had the
important news that I was the bearer of despatches been telegraphed from
London by successive postboys, still the extraordinary excitement was
unaccountable. It was only on reaching Bristol that I learned to what
circumstance my popularity was owing. My friend Mike, in humble imitation
of election practices, had posted a large placard on the back of the
chaise, announcing, in letters of portentous length, something like the
following:--

"Bloody news! Fall of Ciudad Rodrigo! Five thousand prisoners
and two hundred pieces of cannon taken!"

This veracious and satisfactory statement, aided by Mike's personal
exertions, and an unwearied performance on the trumpet he had taken from
the French dragoon, had roused the population of every hamlet, and made our
journey from London to Bristol one scene of uproar, noise, and confusion.
All my attempts to supp