“You ask me who I am, or rather who I was. Know, then, that six years ago I was known as —.” I started at the name, for it was a well-known and titled one. “At an early age my parents died, leaving me the possessor (under guardians) of £20,000 a year, an estate in England, and another in Ireland, a house in London, and an ancient title. My uncle and guardian, alas! was actuated by no affection for me, but considered that if he placed me under a good tutor, insured me a liberal education, and sent me to see the world, he was fairly earning the handsome salary allowed him by the Court of Chancery, whose ward I was. At the age of 18 I started with my tutor on a three years’ tour, it having been decided that I should thus have seen everything, and made a fitting termination to the education of a man with the bright prospects I so confidently considered were in store for me. Would to God I had been born a navvy; I should never then have become what you now see me. The eventful era in my life at length arrived. After seeing everything and going half over the world, I found myself in England again, and on the eve of being invested with the absolute control of my huge estates. I will not insult you, nor deceive myself, by concealing any of my blemishes. Know, then, I was a drunkard, a confirmed sot at 21, too weak to resist the dram bottle, and capable of every folly, every crime, when under the influence of its fatal spell. I moreover hated the society of gentlemen, and was never happy except in low company. In London, whither I came after taking possession of my estates, I did not know a soul; the few respectable friends or relatives of my father I studiously avoided. Pleasure for me was only to be attained by herding with cads and prostitutes. My position, my title, my wealth, made this an easy task, and I soon became acquainted with a number of that voracious, threadbare class. My most intimate friends were broken-down gentlemen and spendthrifts of shady reputation; fighting men and banjo men, and blood-suckers of every type, who flattered my vanity, and led me as it were, with the one hand, whilst they rifled my pockets with the other. They ate at my expense, they drank at my expense; I paid their debts in many instances, and any rascal had only to recount to me a tissue of lies for me to at once offer him consolation by the ‘loan’ of a cheque. ‘What matters it,’ thought I; ‘was I not —, and had I not more money than I could possibly spend in a century?’ I was passionately fond of theatres, not respectable ones where I should have had to behave decently, but low East-end and transpontine ones, where I was a very swan amongst the geese, and where my title and wealth obtained me the inestimable privilege of going behind the scenes, and throwing money about in handfuls. On these almost nightly visits I was invariably dunned and asked for aid by every designing knave; they saw I was a fool, and