1831.] [ 349 ] 



THE SPECULATOR. 



Good ! — Leslie, I knew you could never forget him. — His strange 

 coat, which hung together thread by thread, as if it had been (as it really 

 was) manufactured after a fashion of his own — his eyes, the very reverse 

 of those commemorated by Shakspeare, as having " no speculation in 

 them" — you remember their wandering restless expression, ever seeking 

 something new, and dissatisfied with what was old. You cannot have 

 forgotten the tricks we put upon him at Eton, and the unchanging good 

 temper with which he supported them — his perfect carelessness of 

 money, and the good fortune which literally courted his acceptance, 

 when his worthy uncle. Sir Peter Ryland, died, and left him in posses- 

 sion of three thousand a-year — just at the very time too, when he had 

 (as he thought) received a useful lesson in economy, having been about 

 four months without a shilling. It was my fate to communicate the 

 joyful tidings to my quondam friend, and I went on my way rejoicing 

 at the happy luck of a really good-natured but eccentric being. I found 

 him in a little garret in the poorest part of Chelsea — he was seated on a 

 reversed deal-box, the cover of which had just sufficed to make a blaze 

 on the grateless hearth. His outward man was better than I anticipated, 

 and he greeted me with that peculiar buoyancy of air which told me 

 truly that some new discovery was on foot. " My dear fellow, ray old 

 friend," he exclaimed, shaking me warmly by the hand, " you are just 

 come in the nick of time, to congratulate me on my good foi'tune." — " I 

 know it," I replied drily. — " Know it — the deuce you do .'' — What ! has 

 any one then forestalled my discovery .'' — Psha ! it is impossible — I do 

 not mind explaining it to you though — do you see that pipkin.'' — Ay, 

 ay, you may laugh, but you can distinguish nothing but a pipkin — that 

 pipkin contains my shoe — there is a peculiar gum in leather, which, if 

 properly extracted, would make the finest French polish in the world — 

 this polish as I will prove to you, must be best, when extracted from 

 old shoes, because all, except the adhesive matter, wears away." " That 

 wears away, occasionally," I observed, looking at the companion to the 

 one in the pipkin, that was literally in the state of the poor Irishman's 

 brogue, whose utility he defended by averring, " that if it did let the 

 water in, it let it out again." "Stuff!" exclaimed my friend, "think 

 what a benefit it would be to convert all the old shoes in London into 

 the most splendid varnish } I have been to Jews' Row to contract with 

 the old clothes-men for all the shoes they can obtain, and I am to go 

 down again about it. When this is sufficiently softened to shew the truth 



and excellence of my experiment " — " I think you had first better 



go with me to Quill and Driver, Lincoln's Inn, to hear your uncle's 

 will read," I replied, anxious to produce a pleasing and electrifying 

 effect ; " he has left you by three thousand a-year richer than you were 

 ten days ago." — " The devil," irreverently exclaimed my companion. 

 " Poor old Peter ! if he had only tried my preparation of goosebeny 

 leaves, he would have been hale and hearty at this moment ! but my 

 dear fellow, if I leave this it will burn — here, Jane" — shouting at the 

 top of his breath to the landlady's daughter, a dirty, capless lassie of 

 eleven or upwards — " come and stir this, like a smart girl." Unwitting 

 what he did, my eccentric friend thrust his foot, which was only par- 



