Coming back a few weeks
since from a brief visit to the old University of Oxbridge, where my
friend Mr. Arthur Pendennis passed some period of his life, I made the
journey in the railroad by the side of a young fellow at present a
student of Saint Boniface. He had got an exeat somehow, and was bent on a
day's lark in London: he never stopped rattling and talking from the
commencement of the journey until its close (which was a great deal too
soon for me, for I never was tired of listening to the honest young
fellow's jokes and cheery laughter); and when we arrived at the terminus
nothing would satisfy him but a hansom cab, so that he might get into
town the quicker, and plunge into the pleasures awaiting him there. Away
the young lad went whirling, with joy lighting up his honest face; and as
for the reader's humble servant, having but a small carpet-bag, I got up
on the outside of the omnibus, and sate there very contentedly between a
Jew-pedlar smoking bad cigars, and a gentleman's servant taking care of a
poodle-dog, until we got our fated complement of passengers and boxes,
when the coachman drove leisurely away.
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