This young nobleman’s appearance had considerably changed since first we had the pleasure of describing him. By abstruse study, and unflagging attention to the sayings and doings of men-about-town, he had acquired many noble attributes--he could lounge and dawdle, and walk with a pert yet lazy roll in his gait, as of a tipsy dancing-master, or of a cock-sparrow afflicted with sciatica; he could lisp as though his very tongue was too about-town-ish to speak plain, unadulterated English; he could make play with his eyes half shut, like a timid girl, or stare with them offensively wide open, like an insolent coxcomb, though he was not quite perfect in this last manœuvre as yet. Also, his clothes were large and loose enough for himself and half another man-about-town besides; and he had a bunch of baby’s toys, modelled in gold, dangling from his watch-chain--Lilliputian house furniture, and a gun, and a sword, and a pistol to match, and a little man in armour with impossible features, accompanied by a horrid little skull of the same after his decease, with two of his little golden marrow-bones crossed under it, as if they were saying their prayers; there was likewise a ridiculous fish, which wagged its tail, and a fox’s mask, as it is “knowing” to term the physiognomy of that astute quadrupedal martyr; the whole to conclude with a limp and jointed Punchinello, or Tomfool, as a _pendant _(in every sense of the word) to the fool of larger growth who wore these childish absurdities. Thus attired and adorned, Lord Alfred Courtland withdrew one white hand from a pocket of his liberal trousers, and, laying it on Beaupeep’s shoulder, with a want of energy, general lassitude, and fish-out-of-water-ishness of manner, which did him infinite credit, drawled forth-- “Ah! my dear fellar! this is very good of you, to come at such short notice!” “Not at all, not at all,” was the brisk reply, for Beaupeep did not go in for, or revere, the all-to-pieces style, but rather made it a theme for playful jesting; “when I got your invite, I just scribbled off a line to Palmerston to say I’d dine with him to-morrow instead of to-day.” Lord Alfred quietly raised his eyebrows, while, nothing abashed, Beaupeep continued-- “It’s very jolly to be on those terms with a man like ‘Pam.,’ and I consider it quite sufficient recompense for my unwearying devotion to my public duties.” “It really won’t do with me, my dear Jack,” interrupted Lord Alfred, in a tone of affectionate remonstrance; “reflect how long we’ve known each other!” “By the way,” recommenced Jack, ignoring the interruptional rebuke, “talking of ‘Pam.’ puts me in mind of the Foreign Office, which, not unnaturally, leads to the inquiry of who may be the illustrious ‘Mossoo’ who is to make our fourth to-day?” “Monsieur Guillemard! oh, he is a very gentlemanly and intelligent Frenchman, and a particular friend of Horace D’Almayne’s.”