“At Cambridge, Sir?” said I. “At Cambridge, Sir,” he repeated, mimicking my affected astonishment; “why I suppose you never were at Cambridge!--Oh! you young spendthrift; is this the manner you dispose of my allowance? Is this the way you read hard? you young profligate, you young ------ you ------.” Seeing he was getting energetic, I began to be apprehensive of a _scene_; and resolved to drop the curtain at once, “Really, Sir,” said I, with as brazen a look as I could summon upon emergency, “I have not the honour of your acquaintance.” His large eyes assumed a fixed stare of astonishment. “I must confess you have the advantage of me. Excuse me; but, to my knowledge, I never saw you before.”--A torrent, I perceived, was coming.--“Make no apologies, they are unnecessary. Your next _rencontre_ will, I hope, be more fortunate, though your finding your country cousin in London is like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay.--Bye, bye, old buck.” The cart was removed, and I drove off, yet not without seeing him, in a paroxysm of rage, half frightful, half ludicrous, toss his hat on the ground, and hearing him exclaim--“He disowns me! the jackanapes! disowns his own uncle by ------.” Poor Philip Chichester’s look of amazement at this finished stroke of impudence is present, at this instant, to my memory. I think I see his face, which at no time had more expression than a turnip, assume that air of a pensive simpleton, _d’un mouton qui rêve_, which he so often and so successfully exhibited over an incomprehensible problem in “Principia.” “Well! you’ve done it.--Dished completely. What could induce you to be such a blockhead?” said he. “The family of the blockheads, my dear Phil,” I replied, “is far too creditably established in society to render their alliance disgraceful. I’m proud to belong to so prevailing a party.” “Pshaw! this is no time for joking. What’s to be done?” “Why, when does a man want a joke, Phil, but when he is in trouble? However, adieu to _badinage_, and hey for Cambridge, instantly.” “Cambridge?” “In the twinkling of an eye--not a moment to be lost. My uncle will post there with four horses instantly; and my only chance of avoiding that romantic misfortune of being cut off with a shilling, is to be there before him.” Without settling the bill at the inn, or making a single arrangement, we dashed back to Cambridge. Never shall I forget the mental anxiety I endured on my way there. Every thing was against us. A heavy rain had fallen in the night, and the roads were wretched, the traces broke--turnpike gates were shut--droves of sheep and carts impeded our progress; but in spite of all these obstacles, we reached the college in less than six hours. “Has Sir Thomas -------- been here?” said I to the porter, with an agitation I could not conceal. “No, Sir.” Phil “thanked God, and took courage.”