“‘Gascoigne, I believe, my lord.’
“‘Gascoigne—true—Gascoigne.’ His lordship wrote the name down in a note-book.
“Bows for the last time—not a word more on either side.
“And now that I have written all this to you, my dear mother, I am almost ashamed to send it—because it is so full of egotism. But Rosamond, the excuser general, will apologize for me, by pleading that I was obliged to tell the truth, and the whole truth.
“Love to Caroline, and thanks for her letter.—Love to Rosamond, upon condition that she will write to me from Hungerford Castle, and cheer my solitude in London with news from the country, and from home.
“Your affectionate son,
“ALFRED PERCY.
“P.S. I hope you all like O’Brien.”
We hope the reader will recollect the poor Irishman, whose leg the surgeon had condemned to be cut off, but which was saved by Erasmus. A considerable time afterwards, one morning, when Erasmus was just getting up, he heard a loud knock at his door, and in one and the same instant pushing past his servant into his bedchamber, and to the foot of his bed, rushed this Irishman O’Brien, breathless, and with a face perspiring joy. “I axe your honour’s pardon, master, but it’s what you’re wanting down street in all haste—here’s an elegant case for ye, doctor dear!—That painter-jantleman down in the square there beyond that is not expicted.”
“Not expected!” said Erasmus.