But once, crossing a square, faced on one side by a fashionable hotel, he made a rapid turn with me round a corner; and never stopped, till the square was a good block in our rear. The cause of this sudden retreat, was a remarkably elegant coat and pantaloons, standing upright on the hotel steps, and containing a young buck, tapping his teeth with an ivory-headed riding-whip.
“Who was he, Harry?” said I.
“My old chum, Lord Lovely,” said Harry, with a careless air, “and Heaven only knows what brings Lovely from London.”
“A lord?” said I starting; “then I must look at him again;” for lords are very scarce in Liverpool.
Unmindful of my companion’s remonstrances, I ran back to the corner; and slowly promenaded past the upright coat and pantaloons on the steps.
It was not much of a lord to behold; very thin and limber about the legs, with small feet like a doll’s, and a small, glossy head like a seal’s. I had seen just such looking lords standing in sentimental attitudes in front of Palmo’s in Broadway.
However, he and I being mutual friends of Harry’s, I thought something of accosting him, and taking counsel concerning what was best to be done for the young prodigal’s welfare; but upon second thoughts I thought best not to intrude; especially, as just then my lord Lovely stepped to the open window of a flashing carriage which drew up; and throwing himself into an interesting posture, with the sole of one boot vertically exposed, so as to show the stamp on it—a coronet—fell into a sparkling conversation with a magnificent white satin hat, surmounted by a regal marabou feather, inside.
I doubted not, this lady was nothing short of a peeress; and thought it would be one of the pleasantest and most charming things in the world, just to seat myself beside her, and order the coachman to take us a drive into the country.
But, as upon further consideration, I imagined that the peeress might decline the honor of my company, since I had no formal card of introduction; I marched on, and rejoined my companion, whom I at once endeavored to draw out, touching Lord Lovely; but he only made mysterious answers; and turned off the conversation, by allusions to his visits to Ickworth in Suffolk, the magnificent seat of the Most Noble Marquis of Bristol, who had repeatedly assured Harry that he might consider Ickworth his home.
Now, all these accounts of marquises and Ickworths, and Harry’s having been hand in glove with so many lords and ladies, began to breed some suspicions concerning the rigid morality of my friend, as a teller of the truth. But, after all, thought I to myself, who can prove that Harry has fibbed? Certainly, his manners are polished, he has a mighty easy address; and there is nothing altogether impossible about his having consorted with the master of Ickworth, and the daughter of the anonymous earl. And what right has a poor Yankee, like me, to insinuate the slightest suspicion against what he says? What little money he has, he spends freely; he can not be a polite blackleg, for I am no pigeon to pluck; so that is out of the question;—perish such a thought, concerning my own bosom friend!