“Mr. Clarence Linden, M. P., did you say, sir?” said the learned Jeremiah: “surely, I have had that name or appellation in my books, but I cannot, at this instant of time, recall to my recollection the exact date and circumstance of my professional services to the gentleman so designated, styled, or, I may say, termed.” “Can’t say, I am sure, sir,” said Harrison; “lived with my master many years; never had the pleasure of seeing you before, nor of travelling this road,--a very hilly road it is, sir. Miss, this negus is as bright as your eyes and as warm as my admiration.” “Oh, sir!” “Pray,” said Mr. Merrylack, who like most of his tribe was a bit of a politician; “is it the Mr. Linden who made that long speech in the House the other day?” “Precisely, sir. He is a very eloquent gentleman, indeed: pity he speaks so little; never made but that one long speech since he has been in the House, and a capital one it was too. You saw how the prime minister complimented him upon it. ‘A speech,’ said his lordship, ‘which had united the graces of youthful genius with the sound calculations of matured experience.”’ “Did the prime minister really so speak?” said Jeremiah “what a beautiful, and noble, and sensible compliment! I will examine my books when I go home,--‘the graces of youthful genius with the sound calculations of matured experience’!” “If he is in the Parliament House,” quoth the landlady, “I suppose he will know our Mr. Mordaunt, when the squire takes his seat next--what do you call it--sessions?” “Know Mr. Mordaunt!” said the valet. “It is to see him that we have come down here. We intended to have gone there to-night, but Master thought it too late, and I saw he was in a melancholy humour: we therefore resolved to come here; and so Master took one of the horses from the groom, whom we have left behind with the other, and came on alone. I take it, he must have been in this town before, for he described the inn so well.--Capital cheese this! as mild,--as mild as your sweet smile, miss.” “Oh, sir!” “Pray, Mistress Merrylack,” said Mr. Jeremiah Bossolton, depositing his pipe on the table, and awakening from a profound revery, in which for the last five minutes his senses had been buried, “pray, Mistress Merrylack, do you not call to your mind or your reminiscence or your--your recollection, a young gentleman, equally comely in his aspect and blandiloquent (ehem!) in his address, who had the misfortune to have his arm severely contused and afflicted by a violent kick from Mr. Mordaunt’s horse, even in the yard in which your stables are situated, and who remained for two or three days in your house or tavern or hotel? I do remember that you were grievously perplexed because of his name, the initials of which only he gave or entrusted or communicated to you, until you did exam--”