se--such a hall--such a
gallery. I found my mother in the drawing-room, admiring the picture of
his late Majesty. She was leaning on the arm of a tall, fair young man.
"Henry," said she, (introducing me to him) "do you remember your old
schoolfellow, Lord George Clinton?"

"Perfectly," said I, (though I remembered nothing about him) and we
shook hands in the most cordial manner imaginable. By the way, there is
no greater bore than being called upon to recollect men, with whom one
had been at school some ten years back. In the first place, if they were
not in one's own set, one most likely scarcely knew them to speak to;
and, in the second place, if they were in one's own set, they are sure
to be entirely opposite to the nature we have since acquired: for I
scarcely ever knew an instance of the companions of one's boyhood being
agreeable to the tastes of one's manhood: a strong proof of the folly
of common people, who send their sons to Eton and Harrow to form
connections.

Clinton was on the eve of setting out upon his travels. His intention
was to stay a year at Paris, and he was full of the blissful
expectations the idea of that city had conjured up. We remained together
all the evening, and took a prodigious fancy to one another. Long before
I went to bed, he had perfectly inoculated me with his own ardour for
continental adventures; and, indeed, I had half promised to accompany
him. My mother, when I first told her of my travelling intentions, was
in despair, but by degrees she grew reconciled to the idea.

"Your health will improve by a purer air," said she, "and your
pronunciation of French is, at present, any thing but correct. Take care
of yourself, therefore, my dear son, and pray lose no time in engaging
Coulon as your maitre de danse."

My father gave me his blessing, and a check on his banker. Within three
days I had arranged every thing with Clinton, and on the fourth,
I returned with him to London. From thence we set off to
Dover--embarked--dined, for the first time in our lives, on French
ground--were astonished to find so little difference between the two
countries, and still more so at hearing even the little children talk
French so well [Note: See Addison's Travels for this idea.]--proceeded
to Abbeville--there poor Clinton fell ill: for several days we were
delayed in that abominable town, and then Clinton, by the advice of the
doctors, returned to England. I went back with him as far as Dover, an