intages, and to have made pilgrimages to the most famous
vineyards all over Europe. He talked to Helen Dunbar, a musical
young lady, of Grisi and Malibran; to her sister Caroline, a literary
enthusiast, of the poems of the year, "Ion," and "Paracelsus;" to
me he spoke of geraniums; and to my father of politics--contriving to
conciliate both parties, (for there were Whigs and Tories in the room,)
by dubbing himself a liberal Conservative. In short, he played his part
of Man of the World perfectly to his own satisfaction, and would have
passed with the whole family for the very model of all London visitors,
had he not unfortunately nodded over certain verses which he had
flattered Miss Caroline into producing, and fallen fast asleep during
her sister's cavatina; and if his conversation, however easy and smooth,
had not been felt to be upon the whole rather vapid and prosy. "Just
exactly," said young Edward Dunbar, who, in the migration transit
between Eton, which he had left at Easter, and Oxford, which he was
to enter at Michaelmas, was plentifully imbued with the aristocratic
prejudices common to each of those venerable seats of learning "just
exactly what in the fitness of things the talk of a Mr. Thompson ought
to be."

The next afternoon I happened to be engaged to the Lady Margaret Gore,
another pleasant neighbour, to drink tea; a convenient fashion, which
saves time and trouble, and is much followed in these parts during the
summer months. A little after eight I made my appearance in her saloon,
which, contrary to her usual polite attention, I found empty. In the
course of a few minutes she entered, and apologised for her momentary
absence, as having been caused by a London gentleman on a visit at the
house, who arriving the evening before, had spent all that morning at
the side of Loddon fishing, (where, by the way, observed her ladyship,
he had caught nothing,) and had kept them waiting dinner. "He is a
very old friend of ours," added Lady Margaret; "Mr. Thompson, of Harley
Street, whose daughter lately married Mr. Browne of Gloucester Place,"
and, with the word, entered Mr. Thompson in his own proper person.

Was it or was it not the Mr. Thompson of the day before? Yes! no!----
No! yes! It would have been, only that it could not be. The alibi was
too clearly proved: Lady Margaret had spent the preceding evening with
_her_ Mr. Thompson in one place, and I myself with _my_ Mr. Thompson
in another. Different they