call the waiter, when I heard a
step in the passage, and in another moment the tall young man entered the
room, advanced to the same box, and, sitting down nearly opposite to me,
again pronounced to himself, but more audibly than before, the same word.

"A troublesome world this, sir," said I, looking at him.

"Yes," said the young man, looking fixedly at me; "but I am afraid we
bring most of our troubles on our own heads--at least I can say so of
myself," he added, laughing. Then, after a pause, "I beg pardon," he
said, "but am I not addressing one of my own country?"

"Of what country are you?" said I.

"Ireland."

"I am not of your country, sir; but I have an infinite veneration for
your country, as Strap said to the French soldier. Will you take a glass
of wine?"

"Ah, _de tout mon coeur_, as the parasite said to Gil Blas," cried the
young man, laughing. "Here's to our better acquaintance!"

And better acquainted we soon became; and I found that, in making the
acquaintance of the young man, I had, indeed, made a valuable
acquisition; he was accomplished, highly connected, and bore the name of
Francis Ardry. Frank and ardent he was, and in a very little time had
told me much that related to himself, and in return I communicated a
general outline of my own history; he listened with profound attention,
but laughed heartily when I told him some particulars of my visit in the
morning to the publisher, whom he had frequently heard of.

We left the house together.

"We shall soon see each other again," said he, as we separated at the
door of my lodging.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Dine with the Publisher--Religions--No Animal Food--Unprofitable
Discussions--Principles of Criticism--The Book Market--Newgate
Lives--Goethe a Drug--German Acquirements--Moral Dignity.

On the Sunday I was punctual to my appointment to dine with the
publisher. As I hurried along the square in which his house stood, my
thoughts were fixed so intently on the great man, that I passed by him
without seeing him. He had observed me, however, and joined me just as I
was about to knock at the door. "Let us take a turn in the square," said
he; "we shall not dine for half an hour."

"Well," said he, as we were walking in the square, "what have you been
doing since I last saw you?"

"I have been looking about London," said I, "and I have bought the
'Dairyman's Daughter'; here it is."

"Pray put it up," said the publisher; "I don't wa