He had been about three months in London when I met him in the coffee-room, and the two elderly gentlemen in his company were his guardians.

At this time they were very solicitous that he should choose for himself a profession, offering to his choice either the army or law--he was calculated to shine in either of these professions--for, like many others of his countrymen, he was brave and eloquent; but he did not wish to shackle himself with a profession.

As, however, his minority did not terminate till he was three-and-twenty, of which age he wanted nearly two years, during which he would be entirely dependent on his guardians, he deemed it expedient to conceal, to a certain degree, his sentiments, temporising with the old gentlemen, with whom, notwithstanding his many irregularities, he was a great favourite, and at whose death he expected to come into a yet greater property than that which he inherited from his parents.
Such is a brief account of Francis Ardry--of my friend Francis Ardry; for the acquaintance, commenced in the singular manner with which the reader is acquainted, speedily ripened into a friendship which endured through many long years of separation, and which still endures certainly on my part, and on his--if he lives; but it is many years since I have heard from Francis Ardry.
And yet many people would have thought it impossible for our friendship to have lasted a week--for in many respects no two people could be more dissimilar.

He was an Irishman--I, an Englishman;--he, fiery, enthusiastic, and open-hearted; I, neither fiery, enthusiastic, nor open- hearted;--he, fond of pleasure and dissipation; I, of study and reflection.

Yet it is of such dissimilar elements that the most lasting friendships are formed: we do not like counterparts of ourselves.