“Or they'll cut his ears off, I suppose,” said he, laughing. “Well, he's an ugly dog already; not that cropping will improve him. Here, take this to Temple, and arrange the matter between you.” And he hurriedly wrote half a dozen lines, which he enclosed and addressed, and then returning to his seat, said, “_Bonne chance!_ I wish you success and a pleasant journey.” I will not dwell upon the much longer and more commonplace interview that followed. Mr. Temple knew all about me,--knew my uncle, and knew the whole story of my misfortunes. He was not, however, the less cautious in every step he took; and as the sum to be intrusted to me was so large, he filled in a short bail-bond, and, while I sat with him, despatched it by one of his clerks to Lombard Street, for my uncle's signature. This came in due time; and, furnished with instructions how to draw on the Paymaster-General, some current directions how to proceed till I presented myself at the Legation at Naples, and a sum sufficient for the travelling expenses, I left London that night for Calais, and began my journey. If I was very anxious to acquit myself creditably in this my first employment in the public service, and to exhibit an amount of zeal, tact, and discretion that might recommend me for future employment, I was still not indifferent to the delights of a journey paid for at the Queen's expense, and which exacted from me none of those petty economies which mar the perfect enjoyment of travelling. If I suffer myself to dwell on this part of my history, I shall be ruined, for I shall never get on; and you will, besides, inevitably--and as unjustly as inevitably--set me down for a snob. I arrived at Naples at last. It was just as the day was closing in, but there was still light enough to see the glorious bay and the outline of Vesuvius in the background. I was, however, too full of my mission now to suffer my thoughts to wander to the picturesque, and so I made straight for the Legation. I had been told that I should receive my last instructions from H.M.'s Minister, and it was a certain Sir James Magruber that then held that office at Naples. I know so very little of people in his peculiar walk, that I can only hope he may not be a fair sample of his order; for he was the roughest, the rudest, and most uncourteous gentleman it has ever been my fortune to meet. He was dressing for dinner when I sent up my card, and at once ordered that I should be shown up to his room. “Where's your bag?” cried he, roughly, as I entered. Conceiving that this referred to my personal luggage, and was meant as the preliminary to inviting me to put up at his house, I said that I had left my “traps” at the hotel, and, with his permission, would install myself there for the few hours of my stay. “Confound your 'traps,' as you call them,” said he. “I meant your despatches,--the bag from F. O. Ain't you the messenger?” “No, sir; I am not the messenger,” said I, haughtily.