e of the town where my sister
lived. Now came the contrast. Somewhat hot, rather coarsely clad, and
covered with the dust of a long summer's day, I was ushered into a
little drawing-room, eighteen feet by twelve, as I was afterwards
somewhat pompously informed. A flaunting carpet, green, red, and yellow,
covered the floor. A full-length picture of a thin woman, looking most
agreeably ill-tempered, stared down at me from the chimney-piece;
three stuffed birds--how emblematic of domestic life!--stood stiff
and imprisoned, even after death, in a glass cage. A fire-screen and a
bright fireplace; chairs covered with holland, to preserve them from
the atmosphere; and long mirrors, wrapped as to the frame-work in
yellow muslin, to keep off the flies,--finish the panorama of this
watering-place mansion. The door opened, silks rustled, a voice shrieked
'My Brother!' and a figure, a thin figure, the original of the picture
over the chimney-piece, rushed in."

"I can well fancy her joy," said the youth.

"You can do no such thing, begging your pardon, sir," resumed King Cole.
"She had no joy at all: she was exceedingly surprised and disappointed.
In spite of my early adventures, I had nothing picturesque or romantic
about me at all. I was very thirsty, and I called for beer; I was very
tired, and I lay down on the sofa; I wore thick shoes and small buckles;
and my clothes were made God knows where, and were certainly put on God
knows how. My sister was miserably ashamed of me: she had not even the
manners to disguise it. In a higher rank of life than that which she
held she would have suffered far less mortification; for I fancy great
people pay but little real attention to externals. Even if a man of rank
is vulgar, it makes no difference in the orbit in which he moves: but
your 'genteel gentlewomen' are so terribly dependent upon what Mrs.
Tomkins will say; so very uneasy about their relations and the opinion
they are held in; and, above all, so made up of appearances and clothes;
so undone if they do not eat, drink, and talk a la mode,--that I can
fancy no shame like that of my poor sister at having found, and being
found with, a vulgar brother."

"I saw how unwelcome I was and I did not punish myself by a long visit.
I left her house and returned towards London. On my road, I again met
with my gypsy friends: the warmth of their welcome enchanted me; you
may guess the rest. I stayed with them so long that I could not bear
to