the lilacs
were cautiously pushing forth their noses. The air was heavy with the
perfume of living things.

The welcome we got at our various stopping-places was often scanty
indeed, and more than once we were told to go farther down the street,
that the inn was full. And I may as well confess that my mind was
troubled about John Paul. Despite all I could say, he would go to the
best hotels in the larger towns, declaring that there we should meet the
people of fashion. Nor was his eagerness damped when he discovered that
such people never came to the ordinary, but were served in their own
rooms by their own servants.

"I shall know them yet," he would vow, as we started off of a morning,
after having seen no more of my Lord than his liveries below stairs. "Am
I not a gentleman in all but birth, Richard? And that is a difficulty
many before me have overcome. I have the classics, and the history, and
the poets. And the French language, though I have never made the grand
tour. I flatter myself that my tone might be worse. By the help of your
friends, I shall have a title or two for acquaintances before I leave
London; and when my money is gone, there is a shipowner I know of who
will give me employment, if I have not obtained preferment."

The desire to meet persons of birth was near to a mania with him. And I
had not the courage to dampen his hopes. But, inexperienced as I was,
I knew the kind better than he, and understood that it was easier for
a camel to enter the eye of a needle, than for John Paul to cross the
thresholds of the great houses of London. The way of adventurers is
hard, and he could scarce lay claim then to a better name.

"We shall go to Maryland together, Captain Paul," I said, "and waste no
time upon London save to see Vauxhall, and the opera, and St. James's
and the Queen's House and the Tower, and Parliament, and perchance
his Majesty himself," I added, attempting merriment, for the notion
of seeing Dolly only to leave her gave me a pang. And the captain knew
nothing of Dolly.

"So, Richard, you fear I shall disgrace you," he said reproachfully.
"Know, sir, that I have pride enough and to spare. That I can make
friends without going to Arlington Street."

I was ready to cry with vexation at this childish speech.

"And a time will come when they shall know me," he went on. "If they
insult me now they shall pay dearly for it."

"My dear captain," I cried; "nobody will insult you, and least o