shininess. His yellow kid gloves even shine,
though I am afraid not with freshness or
cleanliness. You may see the same elderly
person, on sunny afternoons out of the season,
crawling up the West-cliff at Brighton, or
sauntering under the arcade of the Rue de
Rivoli, or meandering among the bathers,
flirters, gossipers, and gamblers, round the
Elise-Fontaine at Aix-la-Chapelle, or the
Kursaal at Hombourg. This elderly person
was once the Right Honourable Ulric de la
Bond, Earl of Fourcloze. He is nothing
particular now, save a dried-up, ruined,
unprincipled old man. He "makes debts," as the
French call it still, but in a small way. His
address is Squab's Hotel, Jermyn Street; but
he resides not chez Squab—oh no, he is too
deep in that landlord's debt for that; the real
residence of the descendant of the De la Bonds
is at Mr. Heeltap's the bootmaker, number
two hundred and twenty-two Jermyn Street,
where he abuses the maid-servant if his red
herring at breakfast be not cooked to his
liking, and does not pay his rent regularly.
If you ask me how this Bohemian lord lives—
how he manages to keep up the shiny hat and
the fur collar, and to travel first-class to Paris
and Hombourg, I can only answer that he does
live and lives thus. His relatives allow him
a little, perhaps: he is a lord "for a' that;"
and really lords seem to be able to get their
titles discounted, when they have nothing else
convertible, and to exist, somehow, upon the
bare fact of being lords. So the Earl of
Fourcloze drags his slow length along the Bohemia
of St. James's. He is to be found in all sorts
of disreputable Bohemian haunts. In sixth-
rate clubs, where retired coal-merchants are
proud of him and make much of him and
treat him to wines and meats for his lordship's
sake; in clubs of worse odour still—clubs
which Inspector Beresford visits with policemen,
and dark lanterns, and sledge-hammers,
at untimely hours in the morning;
in suspicious cigar-shops; at the wings of
queerly managed theatres, where ballets
are the staple entertainment, and the
management is proud of my lord's patronage
and can always find an engagement for
Mademoiselle Anaïs, or Mademoiselle Fifine,
to oblige my lord. You will tell me that the
Earl of Fourcloze must have other means of
employment to support all these expenses,—
for all these things cost money; but I must
tell you once for all that the citizens of Bohemia,
as a body, have the privilege of living no
one knows how, but still of living much better
than many persons who earn their bread by
the sweat of their brow. The means in
Upper and Lower Bohemia may be different
—the ways more or less crapulous, but the
end—life, is always attained. The occasional
clean shirt, the always dandy though ofttimes
seedy attire, the tolerably regular dinner, the
scarcely ever failing means of getting drunk,
and wasting money in extravagance—come
from Heaven knows where, but they do come;
'tis only he who has been initiated in the royal
arch of Bohemianism who knows the whence,
the how, and the reason why: I should be
false to my adopted country were I lightly
to disclose the mystic conditio vivendi to
him unaffiliated to the Grand Lodge of
Bohemia.

Thomas Lord Marlinspike is another
bright ornament of aristocratic Bohemia.
The Lord Thomas's father is the Earl of
Clewline, the son of the great naval peer.
Lord Clewline wears low shoes, a long green
great coat, and a large gingham umbrella, in
which the world says that he carries portions
of his large revenues, having been known,
when sorely pressed, to relieve the necessities
of his son from the recesses of the whalebone
casemates of the umbrella in question. Lord
Clewline is not at all a Bohemian; he is
simply an eccentric lord; and, being
immensely rich, is much respected by the
aristocracy, by his tenantry, and by the editor of
the Capstanhawser Gazette, in which borough
he has a sort of political advowson. He did,
some years ago, labour under the trifling
imputation of having kicked his wife down
the grand staircase of Capstanhawser Castle,
but he successfully exonerated himself from
the charge by stating that the Countess of
Clewline, while descending the staircase,
happening to stumble down one of the steps, he
merely raised his foot to assist her descent, and
so prop her up, as it were; that stumbling
down another step, he raised his foot again,
and so on till the countess reached the bottom
of the staircase in a succession of stumblings
and proppings-up. Lady C. refuses to live
with him, which to so good a husband must
be a severe blow; and more than that, her
aiding and abetting her wicked, infatuated,
extravagant Bohemian son proves her clearly
to be in the wrong vis-à-vis her lord both
morally and matrimonially.

Thomas Lord Marlinspike was distinguished
at Eton by a spirited propensity for credit,
and a disinclination to settle such so-called
ticks without the direst compulsion; he shone
much in paper chases, unauthorised boating
and swimming matches; and, from the number
of times he was brought to the block, must
have benefited (by exercise) the flexor and
extensor muscles of the master's right
arm considerably. He formed his acquaintance
with the immortal writers of Greece and
Rome chiefly through the medium of the
facile grades to Parnassus called cribs; and
left Eton with the reputation of having
annoyed more dames, frequented during
church time on Sundays and owed money
at more public-houses, and fought more
pitched battles at Montem time, than any
other young nobleman of his age and size.
He yet lives in the memories of the fags he
bullied, the sweetstuff-shopkeepers who
trusted him, and the clergymen of the church
of England who flogged him. His career
at the University of Oxford was short but