engagement. None of my old pupils or
surviving relatives could assist me in this strait,
and I at last determined to apply to one of the
more reputable of those agents who profess to
facilitate both the obtaining of situations and
the choice of competent persons to fill them. I
paid my fees, was duly entered by name in some
enormous ledgers, and for several weeks was a
punctual caller at the office, which was near
Oxford-street, but without success. I seldom
visited Mr. Hudson's—this was the agent's name
—without seeing other applicants, sad-eyed and
dejected, sent empty away. And I began to
regard the whole system as a snare and a
delusion.

"I will call yet this once," said I one muggy
autumn day, as I turned into Oxford-street with
my umbrella, "yet this once, and if the usual
answer is returned, I will trouble Mr. Hudson
no more, but will accept the post of usher in
that school at Northampton."

The office was empty of all but the clerk,
posted behind his monstrous books, in a sort
of mahogany cage. Of him I made, though
with little hope of a favourable answer, the
customary inquiry; "Anything for Mr. Edwin
Kirby?"

"Kirby," said the clerk, rustling the leaves
of a ledger, and referring to the Ks, with an
irritating pretence of never having seen me
before: "Kirby—Edwin, I think you said?
Was it Edwin, or Edward?"

I nearly lost my temper at this. I had
besieged the office for weeks, and here was this
man, not merely forgetting me, which was
pardonable, but talking as if he had a legion, of
Kirbys—not a very common name—entered on
his books. Very opportunely his employer, who
lay ensconced in some hidden recess, like a human
spider, intervened.

"Don't worry the gent, Druce. I told you
I'd see him when he called, and I've got
something for him."

Mr. Hudson came wriggling out from his
den, rubbing his hands and congratulating me
with a warmth which seemed to savour of
surprise. Perhaps it was not every day that
the wealthier portion of the public consulted the
office as to the filling up of such posts as they
had to bestow.

"This is bonny fide, mind," said the agent,
holding up a dirty forefinger. "I've as good
as fixed the gentleman for you, and you can
have an interview any day before three, at
Ducrocq's Hotel."

"Ducrocq's?" repeated I, rather puzzled; for
I knew the hotel to be a fashionable one, chiefly
patronised by foreign visitors to London, whose
rank or fortune made them shrink from
Leicester-square.

"Yes; the party is a foreign party. Rich,
I believe. He's a markis, and he wants a tutor
for his only son. Salary's the only thing, Mr.
Kirby, I can't tell you about; but I'll go to the
hotel and introduce you to-morrow, if you like."

Mr. Hudson's information was accurate. The
French gentleman in want of an instructor for
his only son was really the Marquis de
Vauxmesnil, a rich landed proprietor in one of the
central departments. The salary he offered was
one which, had salary been my chief object,
I should have owned to be liberal. The manner
in which his tutor was to be treated at his
château, was kind and handsome. I might
have my own suite of rooms, M. de Vauxmesnil
said, and dine alone or with the family exactly
as I pleased. If I cared about riding, a horse
should be at my disposal. My time out of
school-hours, was my own. So far, so good, and
indeed I had never dreamed of such privileges;
but there were some things which puzzled me.
The marquis was perfectly polite, and yet I was
rather repelled than attracted by his courtesy.
He was a tall and handsome man, in spite of
his dyed hair; but there was a curl in his lip
when he spoke, more like a sneer than a smile,
and his voice had an imperious accent, as of one
who had pampered his pride until it was a passion.
There were traces of other passions, in the crow's
feet and wrinkles about his keen dark eyes and
firm mouth, and his complexion was so pale as to
be colourless. Why had he come to England in
search of a tutor! Why apply to an agency?
Why, indeed, did he want a tutor at all, if his
son were, as he told me, hardly eight years old:
an age at which boys are generally left under
female superintendence?

I am unskilful, I know, in hiding my thoughts.
The marquis read them with ease.

"My dear sir," he said, taking snuff from a
little gold box, which he handled with all the
foppish grace of the old régime, "I see you are
dying to know why I have come for a tutor to
your foggy capital—excuse me—and whether I
am what I profess to be, or an adventurer
masquerading in the title of marquis. Reassure
yourself. I am neither a Monte Christo nor a
chevalier of industry. As to my wanting to
place my child so early, under a tutor, that is my
affair; it is my idea that education cannot begin
too soon. As for my preference for an Englishman,
it is briefly this—I cannot easily find
a Frenchman of learning who is not imbued
with horrible revolutionary principles, unless I
take an ecclesiastic, to which course I also
object. Therefore, I choose an Englishman, and
prefer that he should teach my child your
barbarous pronunciation of Latin—pardon me—
than that Henri should learn to lisp the cant of
the Jacobins."

All this, of course, was said in French, which
I fortunately happened to be pretty conversant
with; but it was an unknown tongue to Mr.
Hudson, the agent. The marquis, however,
found English words enough to inform my
introducer that the result of the interview was
satisfactory, and he begged me to favour him
by leaving my testimonials with him for a day
or two, until his final answer should be given.
For my part, I was referred to a member of the
French embassy for any information I might
desire respecting the position of M. de
Vauxmesnil.

I did apply in the quarter indicated, and all