When he returned, Palethorpe took the wine in silent dudgeon. Of course he had the appearance of an animal too remarkable not to attract attention anywhere in London, but especially so in the particular region where fortune had now condescended to cast him.
As far as he could discern anything of the matter, the company appeared of the highest respectability, if not, in fact, almost too good for him. But then, as everybody conducted themselves in the most free and easy manner possible, he was not long in making himself perfectly at home. The ladies, who were beautifully dressed, and decorated with various sorts of flowers, struck him with particular admiration. All that disagreeable crust of reserve, in which country people are so very prone to encase themselves, was here worn quite clean off; and he found no more trouble in entering into conversation with these ladies than he did at home in talking to his horses. Two of them politely invited themselves to his wine, and, without waiting permission, drank it off to his good health, and suggested to him to call for more. They playfully tweaked his nose, put his hat on their own heads, and invited him to partake of his own drink so very kindly and pressingly, that at last it would scarcely have been known whether they or he had in reality paid for it.
About midnight, and at the particular request of a young lady who was taking leave, Palethorpe was prevailed on to escort her home; a piece of politeness which he felt most competent to discharge by calling a cab, as his own legs had by this time in great part lost the faculty of carrying the superstructure of his body writh that precise degree of perpendicularity which is commonly considered essential to personal comfort and safety.
From that moment up to the occurrence of the following incident, his history is wrapped in the most profound and mysterious darkness.
On this eventful night, the intended last night of all Mr. Palethorpe's experiences in the metropolis, as fortune would have it, Colin had treated himself with a sight of Vauxhall Gardens; and, as he remained to see the fireworks at the conclusion, he did not get away very early. Add to this the time necessarily occupied in taking refreshment, and walking all the way from the Gardens towards London Bridge, and we shall not expect to find him at the top of Newington Road, on his way home, earlier than between one and two in the morning. As our hero walked rapidly down Blackman Street, he observed a man, clothed in a short, square-lapped coat, of a broad country-cut, staggering along before him very much as though he meditated going head foremost at every object that presented itself on either side of the road. Occasionally he came to a full stop, and see-saw'd his body backwards and forwards, until the impetus gained one way either compelled him to recede a few paces, or plunged him again desperately forwards. Now he seized a lamp-post, as though it were some dear, newly-recognised friend; and then made a furious sally to reach some advanced point of the wall on the other hand. Altogether his motions were so whimsical “that Colin slackened his pace in order to keep behind, and thus enjoy the fun. The street was perfectly silent; not a soul besides themselves was about, and he had the farcical performer therefore altogether to himself. He did not enjoy the spectacle, however, very long. Scarcely had the man staggered a hundred yards farther before he went down on all fours; and, as he found himself incapable of rising again, he seemed by his actions, as though he finally submitted to fate, and made up his mind to nestle there for the remainder of the night. Since, however, Colin never was the lad to leave a fellow-creature helpless, without offering his assistance, he hastened forwards, and taking him by the shoulder, bade him get up and go home.
“Where's meesis?” demanded the sot. “I want a posset, and a posset I 'll have, or be dang'd to me!”
Colin immediately recognised the voice. Bursting into a loud laugh, he raised the prostrate man's face towards the light, and beheld the features of his old and inveterate enemy, Palethorpe. What in the world could have brought him to town? Although Colin more than half suspected the real occasion, he determined to ascertain the truth.
“And, where have you come from, my man?” demanded Colin.
“Come from!” repeated Sammy. “I'll tell you where I come from. I co—co—come from Whinmoor—Whinmoor, I say, in Yorkshire. Miss Zowerzoft's my meesis—and a very good meesis she is, I am happy to say. She knows me very well, and I know her. I wish she were here!”
“Well—well!” cried Colin; “but what have you come to London about?”