Now the said Duke of Leinster being a very stingy, stupid blockhead, whom nobody knows, I will describe him. His person was pretty good; strait, stout, and middle-sized, with a good, fair, Irish allowance of leg. It was a good leg, however, _mais en gros_; and I never saw anything more decided in the shape of curls than those which adorned and distinguished Leinster's crop from all such heads of hair as are in the habit of resisting the curling tongs, when they do not happen to be red hot: _c'était, enfin, une belle tête._ I do not see how a man could be well handsomer, without a mind. His Grace was at that time in the constant habit of assenting to whatever anybody said, good or bad. He was all smiles and sweet good-humour. He would, in fact, have made an excellent husband for Sophia; yet, strange to say, he felt not the slightest inclination towards her; but Leinster is not the first fool I have met with who required wit and talent in a mistress. "How did your Grace's party on the river go off this morning?" I asked. "Oh, it was charming," answered the duke; with more of the brogue than was necessary, for a lad who had been bred at Eton. "But, upon my honour," added Leinster, "the English are too stiff and abominable, for just as I had stripped and began to row they hallooed out, 'Wait for His Grace! where's His Grace? where's the Duke of Leinster?'"--as if His Grace, who happens to be a mere wild Irish boy of nineteen, was not allowed to amuse himself in the same way that other lads do. "I question if they did not expect to see me in a bag-wig," added Leinster. Lord Molyneux waited to catch my eye and kiss his hand as he made his exit. "You are driving away the _vielle cour_ by expressing those vulgar ideas." "I cannot help it," replied Leinster. "God Almighty has not cut me out for a fine gentleman." "One word," said Fred Lamb, "and I am off, to make room for better men." "I really will," I interrupted him in a whisper, not knowing how else to get rid of him, "I really will drive down to _The Cock_ at Sutton to-morrow morning at about twelve, and inquire for you." Fred Lamb's eyes brightened. "Swear it upon your honour and soul," said he, seizing my hand. "I do swear," I rejoined. He pressed his lips on the hand he held, in fervent gratitude, as he took his leave. "I knew I should find my noble cousin the big duke here," said the young handsome Harry De Roos, peeping his Narcissus-like head into my box. "Come in, you pretty Harry," said I. "Oh! I am very melancholy," observed De Roos, blushing, as he took his seat. "Upon my honour," said Leinster, "Henry is fretting for nothing at all. Wait now, while I tell you all about it." "Indeed, and we are waiting," I answered. "Why," Leinster went on, "his mother, my Lady De Roos, is going to send him down to a private tutor to-morrow, and I have frightened him with my description of the Smiths, that's all." "Who are the Smiths?" I asked.