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- 8785
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:14.842Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8711
- text
- introduction at a club to the madcap Marquis of Waterford; told over
the sums he had lost upon the turf on a Derby day; and made various but
enigmatical allusions to a certain Lady Georgiana Theresa, the noble
daughter of an anonymous earl.
Even in conversation, Harry was a prodigal; squandering his
aristocratic narrations with a careless hand; and, perhaps, sometimes
spending funds of reminiscences not his own.
As for me, I had only my poor old uncle the senator to fall back upon;
and I used him upon all emergencies, like the knight in the game of
chess; making him hop about, and stand stiffly up to the encounter,
against all my fine comrade’s array of dukes, lords, curricles, and
countesses.
In these long talks of ours, I frequently expressed the earnest desire
I cherished, to make a visit to London; and related how strongly
tempted I had been one Sunday, to walk the whole way, without a penny
in my pocket. To this, Harry rejoined, that nothing would delight him
more, than to show me the capital; and he even meaningly but
mysteriously hinted at the possibility of his doing so, before many
days had passed. But this seemed so idle a thought, that I only imputed
it to my friend’s good-natured, rattling disposition, which sometimes
prompted him to out with any thing, that he thought would be agreeable.
Besides, would this fine blade of Bury be seen, by his aristocratic
acquaintances, walking down Oxford-street, say, arm in arm with the
sleeve of my shooting-jacket? The thing was preposterous; and I began
to think, that Harry, after all, was a little bit disposed to impose
upon my Yankee credulity.
Luckily, my Bury blade had no acquaintance in Liverpool, where, indeed,
he was as much in a foreign land, as if he were already on the shores
of Lake Erie; so that he strolled about with me in perfect abandonment;
reckless of the cut of my shooting-jacket; and not caring one whit who
might stare at so singular a couple.
But once, crossing a square, faced on one side by a fashionable hotel,
he made a rapid turn with me round a corner; and never stopped, till
the square was a good block in our rear. The cause of this sudden
retreat, was a remarkably elegant coat and pantaloons, standing upright
on the hotel steps, and containing a young buck, tapping his teeth with
an ivory-headed riding-whip.
“Who was he, Harry?” said I.
“My old chum, Lord Lovely,” said Harry, with a careless air, “and
Heaven only knows what brings Lovely from London.”
“A lord?” said I starting; “then I must look at him again;” for lords
are very scarce in Liverpool.
Unmindful of my companion’s remonstrances, I ran back to the corner;
and slowly promenaded past the upright coat and pantaloons on the
steps.
It was not much of a lord to behold; very thin and limber about the
legs, with small feet like a doll’s, and a small, glossy head like a
seal’s. I had seen just such looking lords standing in sentimental
attitudes in front of Palmo’s in Broadway.
However, he and I being mutual friends of Harry’s, I thought something
of accosting him, and taking counsel concerning what was best to be
done for the young prodigal’s welfare; but upon second thoughts I
thought best not to intrude; especially, as just then my lord Lovely
stepped to the open window of a flashing carriage which drew up; and
throwing himself into an interesting posture, with the sole of one boot
vertically exposed, so as to show the stamp on it—a coronet—fell into a
sparkling conversation with a magnificent white satin hat, surmounted
by a regal marabou feather, inside.
I doubted not, this lady was nothing short of a peeress; and thought it
would be one of the pleasantest and most charming things in the world,
just to seat myself beside her, and order the coachman to take us a
drive into the country.
- title
- Chunk 5