LIFE OF MYTTON. 179 



ing old-young man, if I may be allowed such a term, 

 and so bloated by drink that I might have exclaimed 

 with Ovid — 



" Accedant capiti cornun, Bacchus erisj' * 



But there was a worse sight than this. There was 

 a mind, as well as a body in ruins ; the one had par- 

 taken of the injury done to the other, and it was at 

 once apparent that all was a wreck. In fact, he was 

 a melancholy spectacle of fallen man — of one over 

 whom all the storms of life seemed to be eng^endered 



o 



in one dark cloud. 



After drinking some wine, he took his leave of me 

 abruptly, saying he was going in a carriage to Guines, 

 a small town eight miles from Calais, where he had 

 been quartered, when in the Hussars, with the army 

 of occupation ; but, taking me affectionately by the 

 hand, said, " I shall come to you to-morrow, for I 

 have a great deal to say to you." The morrow came, 

 and he himself came, accompanied by Mr. Vaughton,t 

 and I hope neither of us may have occasion to witness 



* " If you had but horns on your head, you would be Bacchus." 

 + A brother sportsman from Warwickshire, at this time residing in 

 France. 



