134; A STKAY LEAF IN THE LIFE OF A ttllEAT NOVELIST. 



thronged with people, who, as he approached, respectfully made way 

 for him, and he overheard sundry sotto voce remarks as he passed 

 '' That's he." " Arrived this evening." " Incog."" Staying at the 

 George !" 



Wondering at the extraordinary interest he had excited, congratu- 

 lating himself on an evidence of fame that Sir Walter himself might 

 have envied, and followed by a crowd, he reached the inn. Three or 

 four spruce waiters in their full dress, received him at the gateway, with 

 most obsequious homage. The landlord (his hair re-powdered for the 

 occasion) carrying a silver branch of four wax-lights, stepped up to him 

 with a low bow. 



" This way, an' please your , this way. Supper is ready for 



your ." 



Walton, indulging his love of comic adventure, followed his guide 

 with a dignified air into the drawing-room. The splendid chandelier 

 threw a flood of light over a table, covered " with every delicacy of the 

 season." His host lamented that the champagne had not been longer in 

 ice, and was distrest at having been absent from home when his illus- 

 trious guest arrived. Waiters flew about anticipating the asking eye, 

 and, as Mrs. Malaprop would say, "all was alacrity and adulation." 

 Walton could not help contrasting the indifference which he encoun- 

 tered at his afternoon meal with the courtesy which graced his evening 

 repast. He made ample amends to his insulted appetite, and regretted 

 that he had no friend to partake in the joke, for he began to find these 

 mysterious attentions too vast for even his literary vanity to swallow. 

 Remembering the purport of his visit, he inquired how soon the com- 

 missioner was expected to return ? 



Sir Henry came back this evening, may it please " 



I must see him to-morrow early: take care I am called at eight." 



A carriage shall be in attendance, your " 



No, no ; my visit is of a private nature." 



I understand, so please and will caution my servants." 



Walton, after having discussed some well-made bishop, and a segar 

 or two, rang for a night-candle. The attentive landlord, like Monk 

 Lewis's beautiful spirit, still bearing the silver branch, led the way to 

 the best bed-room. Walton thought of the loftily-situated apartment 

 first allotted to him, and smiled. Dismissing his officious attendant, he 

 retired to rest. 



The next morning, somewhat tired by the parade of the past night, 

 he breakfasted in his bed-room, and was preparing for his visit to the 

 dock-yard, when his persevering host entered, beseeching the honour of 

 showing him the way. His offer was accepted ; and finding that the 

 champagne had renewed his gouty symptoms, Walton took advantage 

 of his companion's supporting arm. The good man appeared over- 

 whelmed with this condescension, and looked unutterable things, at the 

 various acquaintance he encountered in his way. At the dock gate, 

 Walton left his delighted cicerone, who intimated his ambition to remain 

 there, to have the supreme felicity of showing him the way back. 



Some hours rolled away, during which our traveller received the 

 information he had sought, which appeared of so much import to the 



Right Honourable , on whose behalf he had made the iftquiry, 



that he determined on leaving Portsmouth instantly. A footman of the 



