Peacock (snappishly).--"I am going on with it! You put me out. Where was I--oh--ah--yes. I had just been sold up,--not a penny in my pocket; and if you could have seen my coat,--yet that was better than the small clothes! Well, it was in Oxford Street,--no, it was in the Strand, near the Lowther,-- "'The sun was in the heavens; and the proud day Attended with the pleasures of the world."' Pisistratus (lowering the glass).--"To St. James's Square?" Peacock.--"No, no; to London Bridge. "'How use doth breed a habit in a man!' "I will go on,--honor bright. So I met Mr. Vivian, and as he had known me in better days, and has a good heart of his own, he says,-- "'Horatio,--or I do forget myself."' Pisistratus puts his hand on the check-string. Peacock (correcting himself).--I mean--"Why, Johnson, my good fellow."' Pisistratus.--"Johnson! Oh, that's your name,--not Peacock." Peacock.--"Johnson and Peacock both [with dignity]. When you know the world as I do, sir, you will find that it is ill travelling this 'naughty world' without a change of names in your portmanteau. "'Johnson,' says he, 'my good fellow,' and he pulled out his purse. 'Sir,' said I, 'if, "exempt from public haunt," I could get something to do when this dross is gone. In London there are sermons in stones, certainly, but not "good in everything,"--an observation I should take the liberty of making to the Swan if he were not now, alas! "the baseless fabric of a vision.""' Pisistratus.--"Take care!" Peacock (hurriedly).--"Then says Mr. Vivian, 'If you don't mind wearing a livery till I can provide for you more suitably, my old friend, there's a vacancy in the establishment of Mr. Trevanion.' Sir, I accepted the proposal; and that's why I wear this livery." Pisistratus.--"And pray, what business had you with that young woman, whom I take to be Miss Trevanion's maid? And why should she come from Oxton to see you?" I had expected that these questions would confound Mr. Peacock; but if there were really anything in them to cause embarrassment, the ci-devant actor was too practised in his profession to exhibit it. He merely smiled, and smoothing jauntily a very tumbled shirt front, he said, "Oh, sir, fie! "'Of this matter Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made.' "If you must know my love affairs, that young woman is, as the vulgar say, my sweetheart." "Your sweetheart!" I exclaimed, greatly relieved, and acknowledging at once the probability of the statement. "Yet," I added suspiciously,-- "yet, if so, why should she expect Mr. Gower to write to her?" "You're quick of hearing, sir; but though-- "'All adoration, duty, and observance; All humbleness and patience and impatience,'