Pugwash entered, dressed in her sweetest smiles
and her best cap, an auxiliary by no means required by her charms,
which, like an Italian sky, when unclouded, are unrivalled in
splendour. Approaching me, she said, with an irresistible smile,
"Would you like Mr. ---" (Here there was a pause, a hiatus, evidently
intended for me to fill up with my name; but that no person knows,
nor do I intend they shall; at Medley's Hotel, in Halifax, I was
known as the stranger in No. 1. The attention that incognito procured
for me, the importance it gave me in the eyes of the master of the
house, its lodgers and servants, is indescribable. It is only great
people who travel incog. State travelling is inconvenient and slow;
the constant weight of form and etiquette oppresses at once the
strength and the spirits. It is pleasant to travel unobserved, to
stand at ease, or exchange the full suit for the undress coat and
fatigue jacket. Wherever too there is mystery there is importance;
there is no knowing for whom I may be mistaken; but let me once give
my humble cognomen and occupation, and I sink immediately to my own
level, to a plebeian station and a vulgar name; not even my beautiful
hostess, nor my inquisitive friend, the Clockmaker, who calls me
"Squire," shall extract that secret!) "Would you like, Mr. ---"
"Indeed, I would," said I, "Mrs.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82