1828.) a Romance of High Holborn. 55 
doors presented themselves, I opened (as a matter of course) the wrong 
one, which led me into a spacious apartment, in which were placed two 
fat full-grown beds. My lanthorn happening to go out at the moment, I 
was compelled to forego all further scrutiny, so without more ado, flung 
off my clothes, and dived, at one dexterous plunge, right into the centre 
of the nearest vacant bed. In an instant I was fast asleep: my imagina- 
tion, oppressed with the day’s events, had become fairly exhausted, and 
now lay chained down in that heavy, dreamless sleep, which none but 
fatigued travellers can appreciate. Towards day-break, I was roused by 
a peculiar long-drawn snore, proceeding from the next bed. The 
music, though deep, was gusty, vulgar, and ludicrous, like a west wind 
whistling through a wash-house. I should know it among a thousand 
snores. At first I took no notice of this diversified sternutation, but as 
it deepened every moment in energy, terminating in something like a 
groan, I was compelled to pay it the homage of my admiration and 
astonishment. This attention, however, soon flagged: in a few minutes 
I was a second time asleep, nor did I again awake till the morning was 
far advanced. At this eventful juncture, while casting my eyes round 
the room with all the voluptuous indolence of a jaded traveller, they 
suddenly chanced to fall on a gaunt, spectral figure, undressed, un- 
washed, unshaved, decked out in a red worsted night-cap, its left cheek 
swollen, as if with cold or tooth-ache, and seated bolt upright in the very 
next bed, scarce six inches off my nose. And this figure was but I 
need add no more: the reader must by this time have fully anticipated 
my discovery. 
That night I started from Bologne. I could no more have endured to 
stop there, conscious that the town contained my persecutor, than I could 
have flown. Accordingly, after a hurried breakfast, I proceeded to 
arrange what little business I had to transact ; and this completed, away 
I posted to the well-known shop of Monsieur , dentist, perruquier, 
and general agent to the steam packet company. Fortunately the little 
man was at home, and received me with his usual courtesy. He was 
very, very sorry, that he could not stay to converse with me, but a patient 
in the inner parlour required his immediate attendance ; he must there- 
fore I entreated him not to apologize : my business was simple, it 
was merely to ascertain at what hour the first packet sailed ; and having 
so said, and received a satisfactory reply, I prepared to quit the shop, 
when just as I was turning round to shut’ the door, I caught a glimpse 
through the half-closed curtains that shaded the inner room, of a cheek 
and one eye. The cheek was swollen, and a solitary patch of snuff rested, 
like a fly, upon its surface ——It was the Mysterious Tailor : he had come 
in to have his tooth pulled out. 
Notwithstanding my anxiety to quit Bologne, it was evening before I 
was on board the packet, nor did I feel myself at ease, until the heights 
had dwindled to a speck, and the loud carols of the fishermen returning 
home from their day’s sport, had sunk into a faint undistinguished 
whisper. Our vessel’s course for the first hour or so was delightful: the 
sailors laughed and sung, the passengers—most of whom were in the 
eabin—occupied their leisure with cards, scandal, and bad puns ; and I, 
with one or two others, amused myself with watching the shifting sunset, 
as it threw its long pensile hues across a sea as glassy as marble. It is 
pleasant, stretched at one’s ease on deck, to see the swell left in the 
vessel’s wake, glittering like ‘studded silver in the twilight ; to hear the 
