assistance--"

"You can, sir," replied Linden, "and immediately--have the kindness to
ring the bell."

Mr. Brown, with a grave smile, did as he was desired; the waiter
re-entered, and, receiving a whispered order from Clarence, again
disappeared.

"What profession did you say, sir?" renewed Mr. Brown, artfully.

"None!" replied Linden.

"Oh, very well,--very well indeed. Then as an idle, independent
gentleman, you will of course be a bit of a beau; want some shirts,
possibly; fine cravats, too; gentlemen wear a particular pattern now;
gloves, gold, or shall I say gilt chain, watch and seals, a ring or two,
and a snuff-box?"

"Sir, you are vastly obliging," said Clarence, in undisguised surprise.

"Not at all, I would do anything for a relation of Mrs. Minden."

The waiter re-entered; "Sir," said he to Linden, "your room is quite
ready."

"I am glad to hear it," said Clarence, rising. "Mr. Brown, I have the
honour of wishing you a good evening."

"Stay, sir--stay; you have not looked into these things belonging to the
late Lady Waddilove."

"Another time," said Clarence, hastily.

"To-morrow, at ten o'clock," muttered Mr. Brown.

"I am exceedingly glad I have got rid of that fellow," said Linden to
himself, as he stretched his limbs in his easy-chair, and drank off
the last glass of his pint of port. "If I have not already seen, I have
already guessed, enough of the world, to know that you are to look to
your pockets when a man offers you a present; they who 'give,' also
'take away.' So here I am in London, with an order for 1000 pounds in my
purse, the wisdom of Dr. Latinas in my head, and the health of eighteen
in my veins; will it not be my own fault if I do not both enjoy and make
myself--"

And then, yielding to meditations of future success, partaking strongly
of the inexperienced and sanguine temperament of the soliloquist,
Clarence passed the hours till his pillow summoned him to dreams no less
ardent and perhaps no less unreal.

CHAPTER VIII.

"Oh, how I long to be employed!"--Every Man in his Humour.

Clarence was sitting the next morning over the very unsatisfactory
breakfast which tea made out of broomsticks, and cream out of chalk
(adulteration thrived even in 17--) afforded, when the waiter threw open
the door and announced Mr. Brown.

"Just in time, sir, you perceive," said Mr. Brown; "I am punctuality
itself: exactly a quarter of a minute to ten. I have brought you the