grandeur—­plunged into one of our great public schools—­into a new world.  Forced to struggle, mind and body, with his equals, his rivals, the little lord became a spirited schoolboy, and, in time, a man.  Fortunately for him, science and literature happened to be the fashion among a set of clever young men with whom he was at Cambridge.  His ambition for intellectual superiority was raised, his views were enlarged, his tastes and his manners formed.  The sobriety of English good sense mixed most advantageously with Irish vivacity; English prudence governed, but did not extinguish his Irish enthusiasm.  But, in fact, English and Irish had not been invidiously contrasted in his mind:  he had been so long resident in England, and so intimately connected with Englishmen, that he was not obvious to any of the commonplace ridicule thrown upon Hibernians; and he had lived with men who were too well informed and liberal to misjudge or depreciate a sister country.  He had found, from experience, that, however reserved the English may be in manner, they are warm at heart; that, however averse they may be from forming new acquaintance, their esteem and confidence once gained, they make the most solid friends.  He had formed friendships in England; he was fully sensible of the superior comforts, refinement, and information, of English society; but his own country was endeared to him by early association, and a sense of duty and patriotism attached him to Ireland.  And shall I too be an absentee? was a question which resulted from these reflections—­a question which he was not yet prepared to answer decidedly.  In the meantime, the first business of the morning was to execute a commission for a Cambridge friend.  Mr. Berryl had bought from Mr. Mordicai, a famous London coachmaker, a curricle, warranted sound, for which he had paid a sound price, upon express condition that Mr. Mordicai, barring accidents, should be answerable for all repairs of the curricle for six months.  In three, both the carriage and body were found to be good for nothing—­the curricle had been returned to Mr. Mordicai—­nothing had since been heard of it, or from him—­and Lord Colambre had undertaken to pay him and it a visit, and to make all proper inquiries.  Accordingly, he went to the coachmaker’s, and, obtaining no satisfaction from the underlings, desired to see the head of the house.  He was answered, that Mr. Mordicai was not at home.  His lordship had never seen Mr. Mordicai; but, just then, he saw, walking across the yard, a man, who looked something like a Bond Street coxcomb, but not the least like a gentleman, who called, in the tone of a master, for ‘Mr. Mordicai’s barouche!’ It appeared; and he was stepping into it when Lord Colambre took the liberty of stopping him; and, pointing to the wreck of Mr. Berryl’s curricle, now standing in the yard, began a statement of his friend’s grievances, and an appeal to common justice and conscience, which he, unknowing the nature of the man with whom he had