he cared not whither.

The evening was gradually closing as Paul, chewing the cud of his bitter
fancies, found himself on London Bridge. He paused there, and leaning
over the bridge, gazed wistfully on the gloomy waters that rolled
onward, caring not a minnow for the numerous charming young ladies
who have thought proper to drown themselves in those merciless waves,
thereby depriving many a good mistress of an excellent housemaid or an
invaluable cook, and many a treacherous Phaon of letters beginning with
"Parjured Villen," and ending with "Your affectionot but melancholy
Molly."

While thus musing, he was suddenly accosted by a gentleman in boots and
spurs, having a riding-whip in one hand, and the other hand stuck in the
pocket of his inexpressibles. The hat of the gallant was gracefully and
carefully put on, so as to derange as little as possible a profusion of
dark curls, which, streaming with unguents, fell low not only on either
side of the face, but on the neck and even the shoulders of the owner.
The face was saturnine and strongly marked, but handsome and
striking. There was a mixture of frippery and sternness in its
expression,--something between Madame Vestries and T. P. Cooke, or
between "lovely Sally" and a "Captain bold of Halifax." The stature of
this personage was remarkably tall, and his figure was stout, muscular,
and well knit. In fine, to complete his portrait, and give our readers
of the present day an exact idea of this hero of the past, we shall add
that he was altogether that sort of gentleman one sees swaggering in
the Burlington Arcade, with his hair and hat on one side, and a military
cloak thrown over his shoulders; or prowling in Regent Street, towards
the evening, whiskered and cigarred.

Laying his hand on the shoulder of our hero, this gentleman said, with
an affected intonation of voice,--

"How dost, my fine fellow? Long since I saw you! Damme, but you look the
worse for wear. What hast thou been doing with thyself?"

"Ha!" cried our hero, returning the salutation of the stranger, "and is
it Long Ned whom I behold? I am indeed glad to meet you; and I say, my
friend, I hope what I heard of you is not true!"

"Hist!" said Long Ned, looking round fearfully, and sinking his voice;
"never talk of what you hear of gentlemen, except you wish to bring them
to their last dying speech and confession. But come with me, my lad;
there is a tavern hard by, and we may as well discuss matters ov