Occasionally I called on Francis Ardry. This young gentleman resided in handsome apartments in the neighbourhood of a fashionable square, kept a livery servant, and, upon the whole, lived in very good style. Going to see him one day, between one and two, I was informed by the servant that his master was engaged for the moment, but that, if I pleased to wait a few minutes, I should find him at liberty. Having told the man that I had no objection, he conducted me into a small apartment which served as antechamber to a drawing-room; the door of this last being half open, I could see Francis Ardry at the farther end, speechifying and gesticulating in a very impressive manner. The servant, in some confusion, was hastening to close the door; but, ere he could effect his purpose, Francis Ardry, who had caught a glimpse of me, exclaimed, ‘Come in—come in by all means’; and then proceeded, as before, speechifying and gesticulating. Filled with some surprise, I obeyed his summons. On entering the room I perceived another individual, to whom Francis Ardry appeared to be addressing himself; this other was a short spare man of about sixty; his hair was of badger grey, and his face was covered with wrinkles—without vouchsafing me a look, he kept his eye, which was black and lustrous, fixed full on Francis Ardry, as if paying the deepest attention to his discourse. All of a sudden, however, he cried with a sharp, cracked voice, ‘That won’t do, sir; that won’t do—more vehemence—your argument is at present particularly weak; therefore, more vehemence—you must confuse them, stun them, stultify them, sir’; and, at each of these injunctions, he struck the back of his right hand sharply against the palm of the left. ‘Good, sir—good!’ he occasionally uttered, in the same sharp, cracked tone, as the voice of Francis Ardry became more and more vehement. ‘Infinitely good!’ he exclaimed, as Francis Ardry raised his voice to the highest pitch; ‘and now, sir, abate; let the tempest of vehemence decline—gradually, sir; not too fast. Good, sir—very good!’ as the voice of Francis Ardry declined gradually in vehemence. ‘And now a little pathos, sir—try them with a little pathos. That won’t do, sir—that won’t do,’—as Francis Ardry made an attempt to become pathetic,—‘that will never pass for pathos—with tones and gesture of that description you will never redress the wrongs of your country. Now, sir, observe my gestures, and pay attention to the tone of my voice, sir.’