"Well, Sir Mortimer hailed him as 'Chichester,' I fancy, sir, though I aren't prepared to swear it, no more yet to oath it, not 'aving properly ob-served, but 'Chichester,' I think it were; and, 'twixt you an' me, sir, he be one o' your fine gentlemen as I aren't no wise partial to, an' he's ordered dinner and supper."
"Has he," said Barnabas, "then I think I'll do the same."
"Ay, ay, sir, very good."
"In the meantime could you let me have pen, ink and paper?"
"Ay, sir, surely, in the sanded parlor, this way, sir."
Forthwith he led Barnabas into a long, low panelled room, with a wide fireplace at the further end, beside which stood a great high-backed settle with a table before it. Then Barnabas sat down and wrote a letter to his father, as here follows:—
* * * * *
My Dear Father and Natty Bell,—I have read somewhere in my books that 'adventures are to the adventurous,' and, indeed, I have already found this to be true. Now, since I am adventuring the great world, I adventure lesser things also.
Thus I have met and talked with an entertaining pedler, from whom I
have learned that the worst place in the world is Giles's Rents down
by the River; from him, likewise, I purchased a book as to the
merits of which I begin to entertain doubts.
Then I have already thrashed a friend of the Prince Regent, and somewhat spoiled a very fine gentleman, and, I fear, am like to be necessitated to spoil another before the day is much older; from each of whom I learn that a Prince's friend may be an arrant knave.