Alas!  Matthew, I found, was but a piece of coarse gingerbread, tricked out with the Dutch metal of false sentiment.

CHAPTER XVI.—­The Loss of a Friend.

“I say, ma’am, do you happen to have the hair of ’All round my hat I vears a green villow?’”

I was startled by the batho-romantic sentiment of Matthew, somewhat in the same manner as the young lady at the bookseller’s, when she was accosted by a musical dustman, with—­“I say, ma’am, do you happen to have the hair of ‘All round my hat I vears a green villow?’”

But, however ridiculous they may appear, such incongruous characters are by no means caricatures—­nay, are “as plentiful as blackberries,” especially in the lower grades of society.

I was indulging in a reverie of this sort, when Monsieur Dubois, my kind and gentlemanly tutor, abruptly entered the office.  I felt proud in having obtained his friendship—­for he was to me a mine of wealth, and appeared master of every subject upon which my curiosity prompted me to inquire, whilst the worthy Frenchman was so flattered by my sincere respect, that he took a delight in imparting his knowledge to so willing and diligent a scholar.

Mr. Crobble had promised that I should continue my studies, being much pleased with the proof I had been fortunate enough to give him of my progress, generously offering to defray the charges of tuition; and I found in my new place, even more time than when in the employ of Mr. Timmis:  for, indeed, half-a-clerk would have been sufficient to have conducted the whole business.

I was no less surprised at the unusual abruptness of approach, than at the extraordinary excitement apparent in the manner of Monsieur Dubois; for he always boasted of his coolness and philosophy under all circumstances.

“Peace, peace!—­’mon cher ami’—­peace is proclaim”—­cried he, raising his hat and his eyes to the dingy ceiling of our office—­“Grace a Dieu!—­le tyran Napoleon—­le charlatan est renverse de son piedestal—­oui, mon eleve—­I vill see, again once more my dear France!”

He grasped my hand in his ecstasy, and tears filled his eyes to overflowing.  I had heard rumours of the restoration of the Bourbons, but I had not anticipated the loss of my inestimable tutor.

I was almost ashamed of my selfishness; but vanquished my feelings so far as to congratulate him on his prospects, with as much cordiality and appearance of truth as I could assume.

“I trust, however,” said I, “that restored to your country, and your friends, you will find that happiness you so much deserve.  Go where you will, you will be followed by the regrets of your English friends.”

“Ah! les Anglais!—­’combien’—­how motch ‘reconnaissance?’” said he, “I vill have for them!  I sall them forget nevare!”

Mr. Crobble interrupted our colloquy.  “All right t’other side the channel, Mounseer,” cried be, elated; “we’ve licked Boney:  he’s done up; stocks are up; and Timmis, (your old master, Andrew) is as busy as a bee —­only he’s making money instead of honey!”