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We arrived at Lincoln’s Inn Fields without any new ad-
ventures, except encountering an unlucky donkey in a
costermonger’s cart, who suggested painful associations to
my aunt. We had another long talk about my plans, when
we were safely housed; and as I knew she was anxious to
get home, and, between fire, food, and pickpockets, could
never be considered at her ease for half-an-hour in London,
I urged her not to be uncomfortable on my account, but to
leave me to take care of myself.
‘I have not been here a week tomorrow, without consid-
ering that too, my dear,’ she returned. ‘There is a furnished
little set of chambers to be let in the Adelphi, Trot, which
ought to suit you to a marvel.’
With this brief introduction, she produced from her
pocket an advertisement, carefully cut out of a newspa-
per, setting forth that in Buckingham Street in the Adelphi
there was to be let furnished, with a view of the river, a sin-
gularly desirable, and compact set of chambers, forming a
genteel residence for a young gentleman, a member of one
of the Inns of Court, or otherwise, with immediate posses-
sion. Terms moderate, and could be taken for a month only,
if required.
‘Why, this is the very thing, aunt!’ said I, flushed with the
possible dignity of living in chambers.
‘Then come,’ replied my aunt, immediately resuming the
bonnet she had a minute before laid aside. ‘We’ll go and
look at ‘em.’
Away we went. The advertisement directed us to apply
to Mrs. Crupp on the premises, and we rung the area bell,