Chapter II: Part 2

For this last perusal John appears none the wiser, being unable to divine more than at first--murder and treachery seem the plot. John thinks the Captain just like Gory, the murderer, in the Chamber of Horrors, at the wax-works; and that Victoria Villa resembles "Greenacre Hall," depicted in the pictorial newspaper. John is sadly perplexed as to where he shall seek counsel--of course, thinking of every one foreign to the case; until, happily, he remembers one that ought to have been thought of first--to Mr. Spohf will he send the mysterious note, ask his advice, and act upon it:--but, unfortunately, John sealed the envelope with Mr. Brown's crest--a circumstance that made Mr. Spohf think the letter from his old friend Brown; so he answers it as such--feeling much pleasure that _his_ advice should be sought;--saying, the enclosed note appeared to be about some drama some one had to write--a document of no serious import. As to _strangers_, he should advise caution; for it is the aim of a rogue to look as much like a trusty friend as possible; quiet watchfulness is well, for that can harm no one. This answer from Mr. Spohf was promptly delivered by the little tailor's daughter to the expectant John; who naturally thought it for him. Curiously, John and his master both owned the name of Brown--John Brown:--now John, the servant, was conscientious; and would not, on any account, have opened his master's letters--he drew the line of propriety much further off,--it stopped at reading in at the ends. John felt sure _this_ letter was for him--not that he liked being called an esquire; yet, for all that, he felt safe, for there, extra-large and important, was the word "_Private_"--a military distinction that made him doubly certain; so, he bore away the letter, in great trepidation, to his quarters in the tiles, there to be much relieved by its contents; vowing, as he lay on his bed, to be watchful as the Duke on the look-out in his "Battle of Waterloo," and dumb as a dead drummer in the foreground.

Happily Victoria and Albert were ignorant of these despatches, or John might have lost his commission and uniform. Confidence is unshaken;--for, on December 30_th_, _Sunday_, Captain de Camp is reported a "glorious oriental brick,"--he having kindly prescribed all sorts of good things for his invalid friend, without the slightest regard to expense; and, moreover, broken Brown's quinsy by administering an extraordinary anecdote, or "crammer," that scarcely any one could _swallow_; but Brown did, and laughed so much afterwards, that the quinsy was gone; for the Captain had anecdotes suited to all times and seasons--he only wanted listeners, and off he went like an alarum. Sunday put him in mind of that day twelvemonths; and that day put him in mind of Richard Spark, of the Native Infantry; Rich. Spark put him in mind of how they got that Hindoo millionaire, Makemuchjee Catch-muchjee, into a Christian church, by walking him between them, in a state of ether; how he (the Hindoo) was mollified by the sermon, and went home--melted the Idol, Boobobum, that had golden hair, diamond eyes, pearly teeth, coral lips, a silver tongue, and a copper bottom; how he handed her over in lumps to the church; and yet, with all these poetical attributes she was the ugliest and most precious god he ever set eyes on. She was the subscription of the district--the poor put the copper and the rich the gold;--the Captain telling of how he made a posthumous portrait of her, which is quite correct; only he forgot five bosoms in the bust, and left out a right arm:--it is engraved in No. 365 of the "Missionary Record."

This paragraph opens with the last day of the old year.--The cold that stiffened Mr. Brown's neck, and choked up his throat has thawed; his nose has resumed its accustomed hue; his temper is unusually good in the prospect of vacating his room, and beginning the year with redoubled energy. Mrs. Brown is preparing for something important; and, from the delicate scented note you observed inserted in our chimney-glass-frame--the one with the Brown crest, a rampant locomotive proper, and motto of "Go-a-head" (which, between ourselves, was _found_ by a very subtle seal-engraver in Change Alley);--from that, and the remarks of Master Brown, when we called this morning, you may pretty well judge:--he said Jemy. wrote such a lot o' letters the other day; that they have a pillow-case filled with oranges--quite a sack-full; and, moreover, his Ma'. just was clever--for she said she could kill two parties with one chandelier, and make rout-seats hold double! The fact is, Mrs. Brown intends to give a ball on the 4th of January, and a juvenile party on the 5th--the former to be extra-superb, on account of the De Camps; who, of course, are expected--having received an invitation by post. We wonder the Browns did not write to invite themselves; for John passed the Albert door in taking the Captain's letter to the post, and the preparations were as much under the guidance of those worthies as of the Browns themselves. The boudoir is in a litter--all cuttings of satin and book muslin,--in the midst of which may be seen pretty Miss Bib and little Madame Tucker, very busily employed--Lady Lucretia de Camp proffering advice; and superintending the construction of an amber satin, covered with black lace--a dress that Mrs. Brown thought to wear, but felt obliged to resign, so much did her kind patron, Lady de Camp, dote upon it.

Above this last-named apartment is Brown's bedchamber, where he and the Captain are spending a quiet evening, reviewing their prospects and relating their experiences:--the Captain stating his intention of living retired upon his property, for all his friend Major Cant's trying to persuade him to take an adjoining house in Belgravia. No! he was content to stay where he was--Albert was snug; but if Mr. Brown thought of removing to Mayfair or Tyburnia, why then, a house next such a capital individual might be a desideratum:--_he_ said it--an Army Captain that should not say it, but did not care,--stock-brokers and merchants were men of bottom; though probably his friend Major Cant would say _that_ bottom meant the _baser_ stuff they were composed of--the joke was better than the simile, and neither bad. After this opinion the Captain paused to think, drink, and--with a blow that made the table quiver,--demand, to know what a man without money was _worth?_--answering the question, in the same breath, with an emphatic _nothing!_--a man of wealth _was_ a man of worth! We know not if Mr. Brown thought this logic or no;--but he, Captain de Camp, knew it, and intended to let his friends know it also; for next season he would give a grand entertainment, get Spread and Co. to throw a marquee over the lawn, and see if Major Cant would come--the Captain rather thought _he_ would; or the Hon. Sam. Dummy--the coxcomb, who, when asked to dine with Alderman Fig, in Bloomsbury Square, said _his_ horses never crossed Tottenham Court Road--Stinkomalee and the Brutish Museum savouring too much of the "people" for the exquisite;--but the Captain winked, and said he knew how the Dummy would get out of the fix--he would come along the New Road, as the Captain said he once knew him do, when in search of an asthmatic poodle that had been stolen, and was at a dog-fancier's on Pentonville Hill. Then should we have the lane filled with carriages, like at a Chiswick fête; I would introduce my friend to the world, and be at rest;--for we are a couple of old boys, willing to make sacrifices for our dear children.

Having delivered himself of these lofty sentiments as the bells were ringing out the old year--stopping to strike its knell;--the Captain also stopped, to seize a glass and the hand of Brown--wishing him the merriest, maniest, and happiest of New Years;--drinking eternal unity to the B.'s and De C.'s--at the same time shedding a very visible tear, that dropped into his brandy and water, like the pearl of Cleopatra, to be sacrificed to self--to a very affectionate man--so _very_ affectionate, that he loved himself, we do believe.

The spirits and sentiment so overcame Brown, that he buried his emotion in the bolster--a state of mind the Captain did not fail to observe, and take advantage of; for--"he supposed Mr. Brown could _not_ spare £8, until Saturday?"--An affirmation that gentleman repudiated; for he granted the small favour with pleasure--presenting the leaf of an oblong book, and his autograph, to the Captain; who retired with the same--by an ingenious plan to render it of ten times the value--adding to the _eight_ a letter _y_, making it eight_y_, and the figure to keep company with a naught--£80.

The events of this day are chronicled in the Diary of Brown--all _couleur de rose_,--the literal purport of which it would be tedious to repeat; suffice it to say, the aphorisms on the demise of the year ran foul of the "_occasional memoranda_," and were brought to a dead stop by the "_general accounts_;" not that his ideas stopped on paper, for he continued them in bed. Brown dreamed "his ship had come home;"--that he dwelt in a Belgravian palace; that he was an M.P.;--that he was known as _Brown_, the "King of 'Change"--that he ruled with an iron ruler--that he was enthroned upon a cash-box--that he wore a crown of dollars--that the four quarters of the globe adored him--that Great and Little Britain worshipped him;--that the _world_ told his _wife_, Brown was a great man:--but, alas!--trains of wild ideas, like locomotives that go too fast, may run off the rail when least expected, or explode as a train of gunpowder, without notice; so, in Mr. Brown's imagination, he feels as if shot into the air, after being dreadfully scalded--Mrs. Brown, kind soul, having applied a bottle of boiling water (forgetting the flannel) to the feet of her spouse, before retiring, herself--that good lady little thinking it was so warm. But there were other things Mrs. Brown did not know of; for she little thought the servants were round the kitchen-fire, quiet as mice, all deep in the "Mysteries of the Courts and Sewers of London"--a work affording the greatest amount of horrible excitement at the lowest rate,--a book in which Alphonso has discovered a Captain de Camp; and cook, a Lady Thingamy, whom, she says, "ain't no better than she should be"--a rather vague but significant truth, that might as appropriately have been applied to a saint as to a sinner, though cook intended it for the latter:--as to the Capting, the only think she had agin him was a wish he wouldn't spile everythink with soy and cayenne, for it got into the wash, and made the pigs sneeze. Mary, too, must have her opinion--saying Wellesley wasn't no gentleman, for he wiped his dirty boots on the towels, and would pull the plug out of the wash-bason when there was nothing under to catch the soapy water. During this scandal, John, whom all thought knew something, only said the Captain was _an umbug_--as he noiselessly disappeared, bearing his shoes in his hand; for it was considerably past midnight.

Young Brown and his two friends are at the "Planets" harmonic meeting, stating their intention not to return till morning--an useless proclamation, for it is impossible to do otherwise, now--they having been at the Casino, "getting their feet in," for the hop on Friday, as young Brown termed the practice of dancing.

Mr. Spohf is in bed, but cannot sleep--so great is his pleasure,--Messrs. Blow and Grumble having patented "Spohf's new organ-movement."

"A Happy New Year--and may you live to see many of them!"--The New Year is born with every characteristic of its defunct sire--seeming no better behaved (as some people would have little boys after a birthday or a breeching):--the old year died with a drizzle; and the young one, that everybody hoped promising, is born with the same attributes.

Mr. Brown is at his post again--the parish lamp-post at the corner of the lane--awaiting the "Favourite" omnibus, that is to bear him to the City. He is trying to arrange the thousand and one little commissions he has to execute for Mrs. Brown. How many he remembered or forgot we know not; but that day he purchased a fair blank Diary--the stationer who sold it not only wishing him "a Happy New Year," but that he might "live to fill fifty such:"--a wish that made Mr. Brown very contemplative--thinking 18,250 entries no joke;--of many bright, bright days of pleasure; two score and ten of birthdays; half a century of weddings, anniversaries, and deaths--let us hope of peaceful, happy deaths,--for clouds will sometimes gather, darkening the brightest sky; but, thank Heaven, there is plenty of sunshine for those who seek it--ay, to find it, too, though it be midnight and beside a kitchen-fire. Of this new Diary the first page is penned with more care than usual--as all first pages are:--there the De Camp dynasty reign in confidence; and it is evident that Mr. Brown anticipates a glorious future.

Young Time, we have often imagined, must be born fledged; for he can fly quickly as his sire!--It is the 3rd of January--the day prior to Mrs. Brown's ball.--Thus thought we, wending our way to Victoria Villa; having promised the Miss Browns to step in and practise the "_deux-temps_" with them; but, as we have since heard, it is another new double-shuffle that is turning the brains of the dancing world just now;--however, we went, and found Victoria in a pretty pickle--a perfect mixed pickle, we may say,--our dear young friends being much too busy to remember the appointment:--for there was the "Broadwood" standing upon the landing; and Master Tom cutting out slides upon the bare boards in the drawing-room, the carpet being taken to St. Stiff's Union, that it might be beaten--a thing we exceedingly rejoiced in; for last year the guests were obliged to beat it with their feet, and afterwards to carry the dust home upon their shoulders--the first polka being performed as if in the Great Desert, during a sand-storm. There was the chandelier (that looked all the year like a giant pear enveloped in holland) being removed to the parlour, and a much more splendid one suspended in its stead. We peeped into the drawing-room, and had our dignity compromised by a man on some steps; who directed us to "look alive and bring that hammer." So, it being very evident we were in the way, we withdrew, tumbling over a barricade of fenders and other furniture in the hall, raised during our absence by the insurgent housemaids; who, we are sorry to say, seemed rather diverted at the mishap, for we heard them giggle, though of course we appeared not to notice, and tried to walk away with a joyous air; at the same time vowing never to visit, even our best friends, on the day prior to a party.

So we took care to keep away until the memorable evening arrived; but being particularly requested to come early, and bring our amiable sisters, we wished to do so. The Brougham was waiting, as were we--thinking to do so for some time:--having made up our mind and the study-fire--diving deep into the first book handy--an "Essay upon Light and Shade in Painting." Well, we were in the dark--with Rembrandt;--when the room appeared to fill with odoriferous vapour, and a blonde fairy stealthily touched our shoulder, making a mock salutation, that startled us very much:--it was our playful sister, whom we complimented upon appearance and expedition; well knowing ladies to be unable to dress in a given time for a ball, whatever they may do for an opera!

However, we had no cause for umbrage on this occasion; for the carriage rumbled over the hard, dry, ground, just as St. Stiff's was striking nine--the stars above, twinkling, as they only can, upon a clear, frosty night. Having knocked mildly, for fear of frightening Mrs. Brown thus early, and been kept waiting some time, we were admitted; after being taken for Mr. Strap, the help, by John, whom we surprised in his fustian jacket and the middle of a fugitive tea. The ladies soon disappeared into an upper region, not soon to return, leaving us to find amusement as we best could:--to examine the tiger-skin, ingeniously sewn upon a form to resemble a living animal (which, by the bye, it did not); to peep into the parlour, and discover the supper, looking mysteriously vast, by the light of one burner, very much turned down; to pace the hall; warm our kids at the Arnott; and, standing upon the mat, listen to the unsophisticated talk without--speculating as to what a foreign traveller could divine the conversation to mean, or the diurnal occupation of the lanthorn-men to be:--

1st voice. "_Droves_, did yer say, in _Mad-ox_ Street?"

2nd do. "Yes, _herds_; I got eight _bulls_ and a _hog_ out of _Bullstrode_ Street."

1st do. "See to that _bull's-eye_, _calf_; and, as there ain't no _kids_ a-coming, I'll _toss_ yer for a _tanner_."

Here "the noblest study of mankind" was broken off--Alphonso appearing. We left our men, to pace the hall--abandoning character for a slow march,--whilst the page constructed a scaffold of clothes-horses and table-covers, forming a repository for hats, over the back kitchen-stairs; the lobby beyond which, we discovered had been metamorphosed into a still-room, and was now presided over by two pretty, plump damsels, in the finest cobweb caps--mere blond buttons, of no earthly use, but, withal, very becoming:--one of these maids being in converse with a young "gent.," who, it appears, has been forgotten in the excitement, and discovered here--his face very sticky with candy and cream. Master Thomas Brown, fearing that such search might be instituted for him, has taken a great affection to the leg of the still-room table; from which he is coaxed by more attractive substances, seized, and borne up to bed--his yells becoming "small by degrees and beautifully less," until lost altogether.

Now comes Mr. Strap, to help and wait at table--in his huge white cravat, yellow vest, and new pair of second-hand plush smalls, disappearing below to develope his calves, which are enveloped in gaiters,--gingerly beckoning the man with the bad hat, who had been tuning the piano, and Mr. Palaver, the Mizzlington Artist in hair, to follow, that they may escape by the back door.

We had been promenading the hall for some time, having become pretty well acquainted with the pattern of the encaustic tiles with which it was paved; and were going towards the entrance for the last time, pluming ourself that we might appear to the greatest advantage--for we felt assured the ladies were descending, having heard a rustling and tittering;--when, just turning by the door, we were electrified by three distinct bangs, that subsided into a sharp rat, with an infinity of tail, causing the lid of the letter-box to look as if it had the palsy, and ourself to retreat like a shot--feeling alternately hot and cold; whilst Strap, who, upon hearing Mrs. Brown's footsteps, began to be very busy, performing a feat of strength with seven waiters, a copper scuttle and an ice-pail, is put in such trepidation that he loses his grip--all coming to the flags; causing the greatest amount of clamour at the smallest amount of sacrifice--Mrs. Brown saying she is happy it is not glass, and hoping Strap hasn't been drinking. The effect having annihilated the cause, the door is not opened; so the dose gets repeated, with similar gusto, by Fred. Lark--for it was he that gave the "stunner," and witnessed the commotion through the attenuated windows at either side the door,--a piece of pleasantry for which he got stigmatised by Mrs. B. as a naughty, noisome, noisy man; and for which he himself proposed the _still_-room, as an antidote. Now, Mr. Lark is one of those funny little men, rather liked, because not over given to sarcasm, and quite capable of laughing at his own jokes; or rather the jokes he has picked up and disseminates--such whimsies in their place being very well, but out of it intolerable nuisances. Mr. Lark commenced his vagaries in the still-room, when we were taking coffee, placing the toast on the table, and the buttered bread to the fire; proffering the sugar to Miss Angelina; inquiring of that lady if she _liked_ her tea--because, if not, she might _lump_ it; and upon our observing some cracknels, as hard, the Lark said--it was _harder_ where there were none; and that evening he completely confounded Mr. Brown, by informing the worthy gentleman--he had not seen him this year!--nothing very remarkable, considering it only three days' old; but enough, withal, to make Mr. Brown think of three hundred and sixty-five--doubting the statement.

Now arrive the musicians, with a gentle knock:--up goes the harp (like a huge blade-bone in baize), followed by the cornet, violin, and pianist. We ascend:--Mrs. Brown popping and firing her parting injunctions in every direction--at Alphonso, in the (library) coffee-room; at Mr. Strap, by the door; at John, by the foot of the stairs;--and, I was going to say, at the listless supernumerary footman, lolling over the banisters; who appeared in, or rather out of, character, by especial desire, for this night only, being lent with the rout-seats at a sure salary. As Mrs. Brown passed this latter gentleman in silence, we could not help smiling--hoping she might have to think as well of his powers as he did himself, and that all titles entrusted to his care might be safely delivered; for we knew Mrs. Bramston would not be called _Brimstone_, without turning fiery; or Mr. Reynard Sly put up with anything but _Slée_, though he may write it Sly, himself.

Having gained the drawing-room, and got fairly through the muslin-barrier in the doorway, which made the staircase look as if in a fog, we found the appearance within very gratifying--everything well out of the way, and no stinting of wax-lights:--altogether exhibiting a clearer stage than is often to be met with--some antique people inviting you to polk in an old curiosity shop;--as, the other evening, at the Dowager Lady Oldbuck's, young Whisk, of the Heavies, brought down a _buhl_ table, covered with porcelain gimcracks; a thing that Lark observed--ought to cure itself, if people wished to save their _Sèvres_. Evening parties are not the slow things they used to be:--here the back balcony is all evergreens and tissue-paper blossoms, lit up with a Chinese lanthorn--looking like a fairy bower, tenanted by four gaping gold-fish and a dissipated canary; the little boudoir, beyond, so snug in sage and silver, seeming but small accommodation for card-players. We thought of Lady Oldbuck's--the valuable space occupied by _chaperones_ and corpulent cronies,--blessing the new mode;--dances now being given to dancers, not to dowagers and matrimonial slave-dealers, as heretofore. Mrs. Brown calculates her company; and thinking there is enough for a quadrille in either room, she commences to form them--pouncing, from time to time, upon timid young men by the door, who are led forward, like lambs from a flock, to sacrifice,--until the sets are completed--all but one couple--Mrs. Brown stating herself "distressed for ladies;"--a combination of suffering by no means acute, for she stood up herself, having engaged the amiable young Slowcoach to fill the gap.

No sooner did the orchestra commence--barely having finished the first eight bars of "the Martyrs",--than the guests came rushing up from the coffee-room, like sheep through a hedge, one bolder than the rest leading the way, causing Mrs. Brown to desert her partner in _l'éte_--a figure the gentleman feels bound to execute twice, though he would much rather have been excused either performance; and upon Mrs. Brown's presenting a substitute he became so beside himself as to forget the figure--a mishap rendered none the clearer by a wag's performing _la pastorale_, when he ought to have done _trenise_, and moreover, not have done it in such a facetious manner, as to render it a matter of doubt if he himself could have recognized it; the audacity being accompanied by a certain amount of shyness, that had to be hidden, altogether sadly deranging our amiable youth's comprehension, he being led by his partner, instead of leading _her_--to be left, alone, in a mental pillory, a specimen of blushing mortification more diverting to behold than to experience;--but, upon being kindly treated by his gentle partner, he recovers, in the _galop finale_, feeling truly grateful to the guardian spirit that has conducted him through the purgatory. Ladies, be gentle with youthful bashfulness--it often arises from pure feelings, modest diffidence, or unselfishness;--such, unlike many proficient dancers, carry their brains in their hats, and not in their boots:--weigh your "_fantastic-toes_" against them, and see which are the most empty.

Somehow, the first quadrille is always unfortunate!--In the back room they succeeded no better than in the front:--here, Miss Charmer was top of the dance, as she always is, if it can be obtained; especially in the _Lancers_ or _Caledonians_ (which, we dare say, are pleasant quadrilles to those who know them, and the Charmer does). Well, she is top, with young Hoy (heir to Sir Hobbedy), for a partner, a brave youth at quoits, cricket, boxing, or boating--his hands, horny as a tortoise and large as Polyphemus', over which he split three right-hand gloves:--a glance will suffice to show how much he is _out_ of his, and she _in_ her, element--Miss Charmer looking, Lark said, as if she would prefer performing the "first _set_" (or sit) upon a vacant seat, beside Arthur Beau, who has just arrived, and by whom, we know, she disliked to be quizzed;--so, upon the completion of the first eight bars, the Charmer flounced, bringing the flounces of her dress into contact with the bars of the grate, causing the smoke to come out, and Arthur to come round, that he might lean upon the shelf, engage himself for the next dance, and stand behind the fair partner, a fire-guard of honour, unable to keep from smiling at Mr. Hoy, who dances upon his heels, as though enamoured of his large feet, and afraid of knocking his head against the chandelier. Their _vis-à-vis_ is a lively lady, apparently taking stock of a _bouquet_, but, in reality, joking an absent gentleman, opposite:--it is Miss Gay, whom Lark (her partner) is making laugh, by observing--the gentleman is not so _absent_ as he ought to be; causing that lady to forget herself--making many mistakes and false starts; which, being those of a person who knew better, were very diverting. Miss Gay is voluble as volatile, no subject coming amiss--she is now speculating as to how far the gentlemen will permit the buttons to travel down their backs, or their skirts to be curtailed; and Mr. Lark, unable to find a reason, must get up a contrary supposition--imagining some middle-aged ladies to resemble a cork-screw, as they have at different periods shifted the waist from the armpits downward;--_waists_ making us think of the short lady (in this set) with a very long one--Miss Price, only child of Alderman Price, chandler and dry-salter, of Candlewick ward--daughter and _hair_, as Mr. Lark jocosely observed, in allusion to the luxuriant red tresses of that lady;--saying her papa was the great crony of Sir Rich. Big, the free vintner, late of Portsoken ward, who was found, or rather not found--having evaporated of spontaneous combustion, before he could get to the civic chair,--leaving all his money to Price; who has retired, with his fat and the gout, to Bayswater. Miss Price is a lovely dancer, appearing hollow (a thing Miss Gay did not doubt), like an India rubber ball in flounces; she is said to have a beautiful hand, so small as to require only No. 6. gloves--as if a pigmy hand could not be a deformity. She is invited, in a hope that young Brown may make her a partner, for the dance of life; and is said to be worth £150,000--not by the pound weight, as the envious Miss Gay hinted.--No! No! naughty Miss Gay, be satisfied with Nature's gifts, and do not covet lucre.

Here comes young Brown, who has not danced before, to make arrangements with Miss Gay, who has--and proved herself the _belle_ of the room;--but, as gentlemen are now in the minority, she does not hint at being "engaged for the next," or propose "the one after."

There is a temporary lull, after the dance:--and in comes Captain de Camp, looking like a macaw in a dress-coat, leading Lady Lucretia de Camp, who resembles an apoplectic canary--so glittering is the amber satin,--followed by the sons, who meander amongst the beaux and bare shoulders, in search of the Miss Browns--dancing with no one else all the evening,--causing the gentlemen to think very little of the De Camps, and the ladies less of the Miss Browns. Now, then, for a polka!--the rattling "Post knock Polka!"--Off! away they go, after a great deal of reluctance and playful diffidence as to who should lead off--Miss Charmer with Arthur Beau, twirling round and round, in and out (like an eel among skittles); followed by Mr. Latimer and Miss Jemima, who evidently intended to do great things, but only cause confusions and contusions, until they get knocked into the open space, in the centre of the human vortex--the Charmer spinning, as a top that could not stop, while the music continued, like the automata in front of a street organ. There, there they go!--that is Lord Towney--he who came with Mr. Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury--the fellow who got acquainted with Brown, as brother-director of the "Dodo Assurance," that didn't do, and was done up. His Lordship is son of the Marquis of Mary-le-bone--he that is flying with the pink flounces,--the buoyant, hollow, Miss Price, whose pretty button of a nose we do believe was impressed with the basket-work on her partner's fourth shirt-stud. Round and round they twist--backwards, forwards, and sideways,--between parties parted, and openings that close again,--faster and faster,--smiling, frowning, and apologizing,--growing swifter and swifter,--until the floor snapped, and rebounded with an awful crash.

* * * *

The visitors are in the room below--a scene of ruin and rueful faces;--the supper that was displayed there, in all its state, is done for. Alas!--the chandelier has been polked off the hook--a mishap in which few sympathise, for the floor is said to be safe; Mr. Lark being the first to propose their going above, as he jokingly observed--to crack the _party_-wall. Now, for that vastly-relished valse, the "Teetotum"--liked none the less for the late excitement!--_deux temps_ against _trois temps_--the latter getting worsted; and the Brown girls, who danced every dance, with certain gentlemen, only, more and more unpopular.

As the evening progresses, the Wall-flowers become bolder;--some finding partners for quadrilles; others edging up to the vacant recesses, rendering it now possible to get out at the door, and obtain air on the landing--where several young fellows are congregated:--there young Lark was laughing, we knew, at the Rev. Jewel St. Jones, the clerk in orders at St. Stiffs, doing the _cavalier seul_--for we heard him say something about early missal, or primitive Christian style,--joking the reverend gentleman's partner, Miss what's-her-name, the "lamp-post," from No. 4, Bury Court, St. Mary Axe--that washed-out, faint, fair creature,--she, that looks as if you could see the back buttons of her dress through from the front--that lady--well, do you see her?--It is said her mother keeps her in a dark closet, that she may look like a consumptive geranium:--however, Mr. Lark said _he_ did not believe it; and, as no one said they did, the matter ended. The stairs soon become a popular observatory--several Wall-flowers joining the knot; one of whom mildly remarks something about three silver-grey silks, in the fore-ground, and their being "much worn;" which Mr. Lark fully agreed in, as, he said, they appeared to have been _turned_ several times--a joke, at which the Wall-flower faintly smiles, for the three silver-greys are his sisters:--however, nothing daunted, he is at it again, remarking upon marriage, and people that look married; illustrating his theory by pointing out the juvenility of an aunt, who he says is a virgin:--Lark retorting--"_virging_ on fifty!"--a notification that begets much laughter, making the Wall-flower feel at a discount, and more than ever desire to say something smart; so, he pitches upon a gentleman with parenthetical (bowed) legs, observing that Brown has invited his tailor; moreover, wagering two to one, that if the gentleman, so libelled, were asked to look at the splashes on the calf of his leg, he would take it up in front, and examine it in his hand, like a nabob or tailor, used to sit upon the floor; were he a Christian, he would look at it over his shoulder:--here the Wall-flower turned for applause, looking over his own shoulder to illustrate the anecdote--there to discover, Captain de Camp, the gentleman who introduced "Parenthesis," a staff doctor, from Woolwich (at least so the Captain said). But here we will leave them to proceed below, and see how matters progress in the supper-room:--

The chandelier, the treacherous culprit, that would not swing or hang in chains, is being borne away, clanking along the lower hall; the broken glass has been picked out of the pastry, and the oily odour overcome with _esprit de bouquet_--presenting, withal, a very effective _coup-d'oeil_:--though, we could fancy the tipsy-cake, in the form of a leaning-tower, if anything, a little more groggy; and that the composite Corinthian temple looked as if it had suffered from an earthquake--but there it was, for all the intense remorse of the cook, who thought the exhibition of so mutilated a work of art would injure his reputation for ever--but it did not!--Neither did any one notice the loss of the frail effeminate brigand, that formerly tenanted the rotunda of barley-sugar; nor was it known that a treadmill had given place to a locomotive and tender--in sweets.

The first portion of this banquet disappears merrily; there being no lack of the usual conserves, pasties, and geometrical bread-envelopes--supposed to contain something, but consumed without the slightest knowledge of their contents.

After the ladies have supped and withdrawn, the gentlemen lay to, with immense energy, as if to make up for the time they have been kept in suspense, creating great havoc amongst ruined fowls, or anything they can lay hands upon--in the excitement, particularity having given place to mirth. One gentleman has planted a spoon in his button-hole, after the fashion of a flower; and, of course, for his pains, got called a "Spooney," by an unknown voice behind Mr. Potts, the tame apothecary, who is pouring, or rather measuring out, some champagne, _himself_, catching the final drop on the edge of the glass, as if it were castor-oil:--the "Spooney," thinking it Potts' voice, must make a joke in return; so begins with the rather hackney'd, but, as he thought, appropriate one, of _cham_pagne being better than _real_ pain or quinine wine; and, upon Mr. P.'s essaying to answer, our "Spoon" diverted to some tongue he was consuming, saying he liked it better than _Pott_ed _tongue_--an observation that made the apothecary's face flush, and the "Spoon" liken it to an article before them, a _claret-mug_. At this last allusion the "Pott" got red-hot, and there is no knowing what would have been the consequences, had not the "Spoon" terrified the "Pott" by proclaiming "silence!"--in a stentorian voice;--and a gentleman risen, Dr. Portbin, the author of that elaborate essay on "Dribbling Babies," in one thick volume, royal octavo--a work that nobody read, but everybody thought a great deal of, for it gained its author a vast infantine practice:--so, when the M.D. rose, the "Pott" trembled--feeling greatly relieved to find the doctor only did so to propose the "ladies"--"health and long life to Mrs. Brown and the ladies!"--a toast that was drunk with great enthusiasm, Mr. Lark vociferously applauding; at the same time stating, in an under tone--"the doctor meant a long life of ills and bills." Dr. Portbin's sentiment is echoed by Mr. Brown, who returns thanks in a stereotype-speech, almost as original as a royal one; to which, in some points, it bore slight resemblance, the ideas being very much generalized--there was an "alliance with foreign powers," "acquisition of territory," and "friendly relations:"--altogether a prosperous allegory, which causes Captain de Camp to be "called upon;" and, in that style of speech usually denominated "neat," give very visible vent to his inexpressible feelings--sketching several scenes, commencing at Victoria Villa and ending at St. Stephen's,--with a verse, intended to look as if composed for the nonce; but, in reality, a work of much study:--it was delivered with great emphasis--a composition for which we had to blush, though, as faithful chroniclers, feel bound to insert--it ran as follows:--

"Victoria and Albert's big
With city's wealth and soldier's glory:
To Army, Queen, and Country swig:
Improve, my friends, and prove the Tory!"

We do not think the Captain quite liked the word "swig," but he could find no better in "Walker's Rhyming Dictionary;" or the last expression--but _Conservative_ could not be lugged in any how:--however, we must say, this ostensible improvisatorial effort produced a grand effect, and a greater noise; which had scarcely subsided, when Mr. Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury, and author of "Lays of a Liberal," rose to retort, saying,--

"We beg to doubt your precious rig,
And I'll tell you another story:
To _improve_ is to be a _whig_;
But not to _improve-is-a-tory_!"

The effect of this latter burst of poetic fire was truly electric; it completely extinguished the Captain's impromptu glimmer, lighting up that gallant bosom with a passion of another kind--he feels miserably "put out;"--and, like a dying rush-light in its last moments, seemed determined to end with a spark of unusual brightness. The Captain stood erect, awaiting his opportunity; but, alas!--it was one that never came; for the ventriloquist, that caused the rupture between Mr. Potts and the "Spooney," made the "Lion" wince, by observing, "he hoped there would be no cruelty to animals"--a remark that made our "Lion" roar contemptuously, and call the company "bears and monkeys"--he growling, with blood-thirsty pugnacity, about "satisfaction" and "Chalk Farm,"--the declamatory mania causing the irascible monster to mount a projection in the recess, covered with a curtain, bringing down an avalanche of fenders, fire-irons, and other stowage, with a fearful crash--crowning the "king of beasts" with a helmet-scuttle,--thus permitting the meaner animals to escape; leaving, as Mr. Lark (who came out last) said, between frightful gusts of laughter oozing from his handkerchief, Jackall Brown, the lion's provider, pacifying the enraged brute with claret or soda water; and John in such an extreme fit of awe, that he has taken the state jug, with the hole in the bottom stopped with sealing-wax--only intended to hold cold water, into use, for hot; and, being unable to stop the orifice with his finger, drops the article--to the scalding of the already enfuriated "Lion."

* * * * * *

Feet were pattering above as we left this scene of strife--no time seeming to have been lost during the consumption of the supper; for the hands of the clock, in the hall, pointed to an earlier hour than they did when we descended:--the truth being, Lark, though rather fast himself, thought Time too much so, and put him back a little. The Wall-flower is comparing the clock with his repeater. Lark is reprimanding him, saying--it is not _etiquette_ to do so; and that really some one ought to tell the vulgar thing, in green satin, who wore her button of a watch-face outward (fearing lest it should be taken for a locket), to turn the bauble round, for it is time she was in bed.

Having been absent for a short period, we were informed by the Lark that we had _not_ lost a treat--for Jemima had been singing, "Memory, be thou ever true!"--whilst Lark (perpetrating a dreary pun) said, he every moment wished the music-stool would prove a _fall setto_, and precipitate the lady to the ground; for it was a sad pity to hear poor Spohf's songs so murdered.

They are now at a waltz--"the Olga,"--which is carried on with spirit, lasting a very long while--young Lark saying he does not waltz, for it makes his head swim; and that he has an objection to stand holding by the shelf, experiencing a sensation delightful as standing upon one's head in a swing, before a lady that ought to have your best attention;--however, for all Lark's protestations, we saw some one-sided smiles, as much as to say, _his_ vulnerable part, like that of Achilles, lay in the heels--an insinuation Lark could well afford to allow, for he does not live to _dance_, alone, like some sage, perfect, performers.

After the "Caledonians" and another polk (which, for diversion, young Brown has danced to the tune of the "College-hornpipe"--a pleasing eccentricity), followed a quadrille, _à la Française_, danced without sides, in two very long lines--a style reported to have been imported from a Casino, and not held to be proper by sober people. So, Potts got a disgust for the polka, and thought _it_ improper--a dance he never patronised or wished to--it being too _fast_ for the dull apothecary!--he hated it, because once an inveterate polkist nearly knocked his _patella_, or knee-pan, off, with some hard substance in the flying tails of the dancer's dress-coat--a huge street-door key, that ought to have been left in the _paletôt_.

Our evening is drawing to a close:--the mouths in the boudoir are assuming the shape of elongated O's--an epidemic that has extended to the Wall-flowers; the "harp" has accompanied his instrument with fitful snores; the "violin" scarcely knows the back from the front of his fiddle, or the "cornet" which end to blow into;--yet, upon being asked for "Roger de Coverley," they make a desperate effort to awake, for they know it to be the last dance--which is supported by the whole strength of the company,--Captain de Camp leading off with Mrs. Brown, and Mr. Brown with Lady Lucretia. Thus ends the Christmas Ball!

The still-room is being besieged for coffee; and there is a great difficulty in obtaining hats and coats--unfortunately few of the tickets corresponding,--for Alphonso's ward was precipitated down the kitchen stairs, it having been too heavily laden. Lady and Miss Highbury are seen to their carriage by Mr. Lark, who departs in Lord Towney's cab, with a "_Gibus_" hat, mechanically deranged--all wrinkles, like a jockey's boot. Upon being asked, by a lanthorn-bearer, "if his Honor has such a thing as a pint o' beer in his pocket?" Mr. Lark, with playful irony, informs the supernumerary that malt liquor is not a solid, neither is it to be obtained at evening parties.

To and fro, flit the Jack-o'-lanthorns, respectfully touching the binding of their battered hats, covering the tiers of muddy wheels with their coat-tails, that the _tulle_ and _tartelaine_ may not be spoiled--hoping your Honour will "remember" them!--as they cast uncertain shadows upon the icy pavement--ice that has been rendered none the less slippery by their cutting out a slide upon it, with the assistance of the police, during the evening:--such a banging of doors, clashing of steps, and stopping up the way, under the little awning, over the carriage-sweep--a pretty pass, so narrow that, we are sorry to say, the hackney-drivers instituted a private road amongst the hardy shrubs, choking up the gates, to the great distress of pedestrians, who are looked upon by the "lanthorns" as "shabby gents,"--paying nothing for the privilege of walking;--they (the "lanthorns") viewing the immunity, in the light of parsimony. However, we think walking home, after a party, under the influence of champagne, a dangerous experiment:--the clear free streets seeming to court a "lark," and the very bells to invite pulling--"Visitors'," and "Night," "Knock and Ring," (and run) also.

We have since heard the fate of a rash expedition undertaken at this season, the band of adventurers consisting mostly of those gentlemen who had passed the last half-hour dying for a cigar; and yet, by some unknown attractive power, felt bound to stay the entertainment out--probably it was that such kindred souls might depart _en masse_; however, be it what it might, their first care was to obtain a light--at some sacrifice, for the lamp-post had been newly painted; and, secondly, happening to pass Mr. Spohf's, they must serenade that gentleman with pathetic negro-melodies--about the loss of one "Mary Blane," and an injunction to "Susannah" not to sob,--until driven by the police into another beat, there to lose one of their band, who fell a victim to an inquiring spirit;--for, seeing an inscription on a door, to intimate that its owner, a surgeon, gave "advice, gratis, between the hours of four and five, every Saturday," he rang to demand the same (having the head-ache), as it was just that time by St. Stiff's; but, unfortunately falling into the clutches of No. 8, of the A division, he had to receive the advice, from a magistrate, between eleven and twelve, at a fee of five shillings.

We left Mr. Lark in Lord Towney's cab--again to take up with him, being put down at the end of Bloomsbury Buildings, fearing the rattle of wheels in that quiet _cul-de-sac_ would disturb the old Larks. Having found the door, and spent five minutes by the hinges--searching for the key-hole, he gets within; and spends five more--trying to ignite an extinguisher;--cautiously stealing to bed, throwing his _paletôt_ over the top banister, and the contents of its pockets down the well-staircase, to the awakening of the whole house.

At Victoria Villa the last guest has gone:--the De Camps have gone--departed with cordiality and love for all that is Brown, at the same time sadly mortified with the impression made on that worthy gentleman's friends. Mrs. Brown, worn out and exhausted, has given a parting glance round, with her night-lamp, and panted up to-bed; the Misses Brown have retired to their chambers; John feels very much inclined to proclaim his opinion of the Captain, but is fearful of the consequences; and Mr. Strap, who has fallen a victim to his weak point--strong drink, is rendered thereby quite incapable of making either a base to his person, or a fluent speech, as it seems he wished; for, upon meeting Mr. Brown by the stairs, he made a rush at the esteemed proprietor of that name, prophetically bidding him to "B-B-Beware of Captings in w-w-w-wolf's clo-o-othing, fur all isn't gug-gug-gold as gl-l-l-litters, as the Rev-rind Miss-s-s-ster B-B-Bucket observes, in the Proverbs of Sol'mon's songs." Mr. Strap, after having delivered these sentiments, in what might have been called a _sotto_ voice, to an imaginary Mr. Brown (for the reality had withdrawn to bed), performs an unsuccessful backward movement upon his heels--as if to survey his victim,--coming to the ground; where he lay until borne off by John, who thinks him a valiant fool.

The persevering Brown, though much fatigued, does not postpone the Diary:--"January 4_th_, _Friday_--_Execrable_ Friday!--We this day gave our Annual Ball--_we_, indeed!--why I knew nothing about it until all the cards had been despatched. Mrs. Brown asks--just as Tom does, if he may have the sugar, when it is half consumed:--_It was Mrs. Brown's ball_ in every sense. I did hope to have experienced more enjoyment for the money. I have many a time been happier at half the price;--ay, happier when I was clerk at Chizzle and Filch's, in Aldermanbury; but, somehow, I suppose a man must make sacrifices for his friends, as penurious old Chizzle did, when he paid the debt of nature, and left to me _that_ he could not take away! Not that I ever made any sacrifices for Spohf--no, _he_ never asked it;--cheap trusty friendship is _something_!--I must own to feeling, all the evening, as if my collar had too much starch therein; and more out of place in my own house than the 'white neckerchiefs' that waited at supper. I am like a fish out of water, and that fish, a flat-fish--caught with a bit of red rag; however, there must be a great deal in use--another element may be delightful, when used to it. There is no doubt my old friend Wideawake's attack upon the Captain was mere envy; and as to his insinuating that I should never eat a peck of salt with _that_ man--to say I shall never know _that_ man, is preposterous!--as to eating the literal peck, no man, probably, will do that; for the Captain has an aversion to saline food, saying it makes the bones soft. I wonder if it has the same effect upon brains!--We shall see, Wideawake--we _shall_ see:--let this page bear testimony! I hope the briny ocean may not swallow up the Captain's luggage."

Victoria and Albert slumber late on the morning of the 5th:--Alphonso is the first up--or rather down, having rolled off his uncomfortable bed, constructed upon four chairs, in the drawing-room. Mrs. Brown, too, must have risen on the wrong side of her teaster, so testy is she this morning--thanking her stars that Twelfth-day has arrived, to put an end to the Christmas miseries!--Soon, now, will that little pest, Tom, be packed back to "Tortwhack House;" and the juvenile party, of to-day, it is hoped may appease some rampant mammas uninvited to the grand _réunion_--rendering any petty excuses that may be given the more feasible.

The day rolls rapidly away, though not with half the speed Master Brown could desire--the hands of the hall-clock appearing to creep so, that every time Tom passed it (and that was not seldom), he stopped to see if it was going, the day seeming most unusually long, and night as if it never would come; but it did!--firstly, bringing the little "Merrys," from Hope Cottage, the Tudor lodge, next-door-but-one--Master Walter Merry being the first to answer Tommy's nubbly note of invitation, in intoxicated text capitals, that appeared to be making a desperate effort to run off the paper, at the right-hand corner, leaving no room to "remain," and scarcely any to "please turn over;" so folded was it, to give the desired angular form, that the paper looked as if it had been used to make five hundred geometrical cocks and boats.

Tom met the Merrys with such fervent joy, that he never thought they had healths, or anything else to ask after; his only object, seeming to be the finding of his friend, who is rolled, like a mummy, in numberless boas and shawls:--during the process of unswathing, which was no easy job to one in a hurry, so artfully were the pins introduced, Master Tommy treats his friend Walter to a railroad retrospective review of the good things in store--recounting all the "lummy" things left yesterday;--telling about the "nobby" Christmas tree Captain de Camp gave them--though his ma' did say it was "a pretty give!"--it was stolen out of _his_ father's garden.--My father's a jolly sight richer than your's--he has more trees in his garden--ain't we got a "swag" of nuts, and a "plummy" twelfth-cake--my father won it at an _art-union_, in the city! I am to draw King--if I don't, just see how I'll cry!--Mercy Merry shall be Queen. You shall have Punch off the cake; and ma'says I shall have "Rule Britannia," as soon as the waves and ice have melted away.

Now a knock brings more visitors, the Masters Young, in all the ungainliness of hobbledyhoyhood--that transmigratory period when coat-tails are first developed:--they have come with their sister Flora, a lovely bud, expected "out" next season. Here are the Bells, the Petits, and the little Larks, with their big brother, the "jolly Lark," who made his _début_ over the top of the drawing-room-door, standing upon the shoulders of your humble servant; who felt the "jolly Lark" anything but light, and no joke--though the juveniles must have thought it so, for we could hear their merry peals of laughter ringing joyously, dispelling the silence that had hitherto prevailed, overturning the sage injunctions of _proper_ mammas, who teach their children to behave "pretty"--thinking _good_ and _quiet_ synonymous. Somehow, the little fellows, unfortunately, take the Lark for Mr. Spohf, who has hitherto done the funny in a refined style, scarcely to be imagined--an elegant, amiable, fun,--a mixture of the buffoon and gentleman, the sublime and the ridiculous, quite marvellous to behold,--making our little friend (who you are aware was moulded in one of Nature's odd freaks) appear, to tender imaginations, almost supernatural. The mistake and misplaced approbation is very galling to Mrs. Brown; so much so that she becomes angry with the tea-urn, and, in turn, burns her fingers--venting her ire in the shape of a box on the ears of Master Bold, who ventured to hint Mr. Spohf's absence a "jolly shame;" and, now vows to tell his mamma--a thing it is very evident Mrs. Brown does not wish, for she has shown a great deal of favour and contrition towards the young gentleman since.