ts of Denmark);
and by certain ingenious circumlocutions, known to all able applicants,
I introduced my acquaintance with a young gentleman who possessed the
most familiar and intimate knowledge of French, and who might be of use
in revising the manuscript. I knew enough of Trevanion to feel that
I could not reveal the circumstances under which I had formed that
acquaintance, for he was much too practical a man not to have been
frightened out of his wits at the idea of submitting so classical
a performance to so disreputable a scapegrace. As it was, however,
Trevanion, whose mind at that moment was full of a thousand other
things, caught at my suggestion, with very little cross-questioning on
the subject, and before he left London consigned the manuscript to my
charge.

"My friend is poor," said I, timidly.

"Oh! as to that," cried Trevanion, hastily, "if it be a matter of
charity, I put my purse in your hands; but don't put my manuscript in
his! If it be a matter of business, it is another affair; and I must
judge of his work before I can say how much it is worth,--perhaps
nothing!"

So ungracious was this excellent man in his very virtues!

"Nay," said I, "it is a matter of business, and so we will consider it."

"In that case," said Trevanion, concluding the matter and buttoning
his pockets, "if I dislike his work,--nothing; if I like it,--twenty
guineas. Where are the evening papers?" and in another moment the member
of Parliament had forgotten the statist, and was pishing and tutting
over the "Globe" or the "Sun."

On Thursday my uncle was well enough to be moved into our house; and on
the same evening I went forth to keep my appointment with the stranger.
The clock struck nine as we met. The palm of punctuality might be
divided between us. He had profited by the interval, since our last
meeting, to repair the more obvious deficiencies of his wardrobe; and
though there was something still wild, dissolute, outlandish, about his
whole appearance, yet in the elastic energy of his step and the resolute
assurance of his bearing there was that which Nature gives to her own
aristocracy: for, as far as my observation goes, what has been called
the "grand air" (and which is wholly distinct from the polish of manner
or the urbane grace of high breeding) is always accompanied, and perhaps
produced, by two qualities,--courage, and the desire of command. It is
more common to a half-savage nature than to one wholly civili