“He is not near so rich as we thought. Since he has been at home he says he has spent greatly more than his income, and is quite angry at his own extravagance. At first he thought he might have retired from the army altogether; but after three years at home, he finds he cannot live upon his income. When he gets his promotion as full Colonel, he will be entitled to a thousand a year; that, and what he has invested in India, and a little in this country, will be plenty for both of us. He never seems to think of my making money by my profession. Why, suppose I sell the ‘Battle of Assaye’ for 500 pounds? that will be enough to carry me on ever so long, without dipping into the purse of the dear old father. “The Viscount de Florac called to dine with us. The Colonel said he did not care about going out: and so the Viscount and I went together. _Trois Frères Provençaux_—he ordered the dinner and of course I paid. Then we went to a little theatre, and he took me behind the scenes—such a queer place! We went to the _loge_ of Mademoiselle Fine who acted the part of ‘Le petit Tambour,’ in which she sings a famous song with a drum. He asked her and several literary fellows to supper at the Café Anglais. And I came home ever so late, and lost twenty napoleons at a game called bouillotte. It was all the change out of a twenty-pound note which dear old Binnie gave me before we set out, with a quotation out of Horace, you know, about _Neque tu choreas sperne puer_. O me! how guilty I felt as I walked home at ever so much o’clock to the Hotel de la Terrasse, and sneaked into our apartment! But the Colonel was sound asleep. His dear old boots stood sentries at his bedroom door, and I slunk into mine as silently as I could. “P.S.—Wednesday.—There’s just one scrap of paper left. I have got J. J.’s letter. He has been to the private view of the Academy (so that his own picture is in), and the ‘Battle of Assaye’ is refused. Smee told him it was too big. I dare say it’s very bad. I’m glad I’m away, and the fellows are not condoling with me. “Please go and see Mr. Binnie. He has come to grief. He rode the Colonel’s horse; came down on the pavement and wrenched his leg, and I’m afraid the grey’s. Please look at his legs; we can’t understand John’s report of them. He, I mean Mr. B., was going to Scotland to see his relations when the accident happened. You know he has always been going to Scotland to see his relations. He makes light of the business, and says the Colonel is not to think of coming to him: and _I_ don’t want to go back just yet, to see all the fellows from Gandish’s and the Life Academy, and have them grinning at my misfortune. “The governor would send his regards, I dare say, but he is out, and I am always yours affectionately, Clive Newcome.” “P.S.—He tipped me himself this morning; isn’t he a kind, dear old fellow?” Arthur Pendennis, Esq., to Clive Newcome, Esq.