the “ancient” with whom he had been on such very intimate terms. But such things happen in the best society. At the famous Reform Club dinner, Sir James gave permission to Sir Charles to go and make war; but, since that time, Sir Charles, with words, instead of rapiers, has been poking his iron into the ribs of Sir James, after the fashion of Falstaff and Pistol. And so, as I have said, Sir John girds him for the battle. If he did in his youth, hear the chimes at midnight, in company with Master Shallow, the lean, but light-living barrister of Clement’s Inn, he did not waste his vigor. So great indeed is his renown for this, and for the bravery which accompanies it, that no sooner does the doughty Sir John Colville of the Dale meet him in single combat, than Colville at once surrenders. The very idea of such a hero being face to face with him impels him to give up his sword at once. “I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me.” Was ever greater compliment paid to mortal hero? Of this achievement Prince John most ungenerously says, that it was more the effect of Colville’s courtesy than Falstaff’s deserving. But, as the latter remarks, the young sober-blooded boy of a prince does not love the knight; and “that’s no marvel,” exclaims Falstaff, “he drinks no wine.” The teetotaler of those days disparaged the deeds of a man who increased the sum of his country’s glory. He was like a sour Anglo-Quaker, sneering down the merit of a Crimean soldier. We do not, however, go so far as Falstaff in his enthusiasm, when he exclaims that skill in the weapon is nothing without sack. There is something in the remark, nevertheless, as there is when Sir John subsequently says in reference to his wits suffering by coming in dull contact with obtuse Shallow. “It is certain,” says he, “that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another; _therefore_ let men take care of their company.” Victor Hugo has manifestly condescended to plagiarize this sentiment, and has said in one of his most remarkable works, that “On devient vieux à force de regarder les vieux.” And, to come to a conclusion, how unworthily is this gallant soldier, merry companion, and profound philosopher, treated at last by an old associate, Prince Hal, when king. Counting on the sacredness of friendship, Sir John had borrowed from Master Shallow a thousand pounds. He depended upon being able to repay it out of the new monarch’s liberality, but when he salutes the sovereign--very inopportunely, I confess--the latter, with a cold-hearted and shameless ingratitude, declares that he does not know the never-to-be-forgotten speaker. King Henry V. does indeed promise-- “For competence of life, I will allow you; That lack of moans enforce yon not to evil;” and departs, after intimating that the knight must not reside within ten miles of court, and that royal favor will be restored to the banished man, if merit authorize it.