Harley thanked him for his information, and was turning from the
door, when the other observed that it would be proper to leave his
name, and very obligingly knocked for that purpose.

"Here is a gentleman, Tom, who meant to have waited on your master."

"Your name, if you please, sir?"

"Harley."

"You'll remember, Tom, Harley."

The door was shut. "Since we are here," said he, "we shall not lose
our walk if we add a little to it by a turn or two in Hyde Park."

He accompanied this proposal with a second bow, and Harley accepted
of it by another in return.

The conversation, as they walked, was brilliant on the side of his
companion. The playhouse, the opera, with every occurrence in high
life, he seemed perfectly master of; and talked of some reigning
beauties of quality in a manner the most feeling in the world.
Harley admired the happiness of his vivacity, and, opposite as it
was to the reserve of his own nature, began to be much pleased with
its effects.

Though I am not of opinion with some wise men, that the existence of
objects depends on idea, yet I am convinced that their appearance is
not a little influenced by it. The optics of some minds are in so
unlucky a perspective as to throw a certain shade on every picture