Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 2

"Hollo—Mr. Axletree, or whatever your name is—what have we here? 'Pon my soul, the very thing!"—he exclaimed, as his eye caught a splendid object—the state-carriage of the ex-sheriff, with its gorgeously decorated panels: which, having been vamped up for some six or seven successive shrievalties—(being on each occasion heralded to the public by laudatory paragraphs in the newspapers, as entirely new and signal instances of the taste and magnificence of the sheriff-elect)—seemed now perfunctus officio. Mr. Axle was staggered for a moment, and scarce supposed Mr. Titmouse to be in earnest—Gammon having given him no inkling of the real character of Titmouse; but observing the earnest steadfast gaze with which he regarded the glittering object, having succeeded in choking down a sudden fit of laughter, Mr. Axle commenced a most seductive eulogium upon the splendid structure—remarking on the singularity of the circumstance of its happening just at that exact moment to be placed at his disposal by its former owner—a gentleman of great distinction, who had no longer any occasion for it. Mr. Axle declared that he had had numerous applications for it already; on hearing which, Titmouse got excited. The door was opened—he got in; sat on each seat—"Don't it hang beautifully?" inquired the confident proprietor, testing, by pressure, the elasticity of the springs, as he spoke.

"Let me see, who was it that was after it yesterday? Oh—I think it was Sir Fitzbiscuit Gander; but I've not closed with him yet!"

"What's your price, Mr. Axletree?" inquired Titmouse, rather heatedly, as he got out of the carriage.

After some little higgle-haggling he bought it!!!—for there was nothing like closing at once, where there was keen competition! Mr. Gammon—thought Titmouse—could not have seen this beautiful vehicle when making his choice on the preceding morning! For the rest of the day he felt infinitely elated at his fortunate purchase; and excited his imagination by pictures of the astonishment and admiration which his equipage must call forth on the morrow. Punctual to his appointment, Mr. Gammon, a few moments before the clock had struck eleven on the ensuing morning, drew up to the Cabbage-Stalk, as near at least as he could get to it, in a hackney-coach, with his portmanteau and carpet-bag. I say as near as he could; for round about the door stood a little crowd, gazing with a sort of awe on a magnificent vehicle standing there, with four horses harnessed to it. Gammon looked at his watch, as he entered the hotel, and asked why the sheriff's carriage was standing at the door. The waiter to whom he spoke, seemed nearly splitting with laughter, which almost disabled him from answering that the carriage in question was that of Mr. Titmouse, ready for setting off for Yorkshire. Mr. Gammon started back—turned pale, and seemed nearly dropping an umbrella which was in his hand.

"Mr. Titmouse's!" he echoed incredulously.

"Yes, sir—been here for this hour, at least, packing, such a crowd all the while; everybody thinks it's the sheriff, sir," replied the waiter, scarce able to keep his countenance. Mr. Gammon rushed up-stairs with greater impetuosity than he had perhaps ever been known to exhibit before, and burst into Mr. Titmouse's room. There was that gentleman, with his hat on, his hands stuck into his coat-pockets, a cigar in his mouth, and a tumbler of brandy and water before him. Mr. Yahoo, Mr. Fitz-Snooks, and Mr. Snap were similarly occupied; and Mr. Quirk was sitting down with his hands in his pockets, and a glass of negus before him, with anything but a joyful expression of countenance.

"Is it possible, Mr. Titmouse"–commenced Gammon, almost breathlessly.

"Ah, how d'ye do, Gammon?—punctual!" interrupted Titmouse, extending his hand.

"Forgive me—but can it be, that the monstrous thing now before the door, with a crowd grinning around it, is your carriage?" inquired Gammon, with dismay in his face.

"I—rather—think—it is," replied Titmouse, slightly disconcerted, but striving to look self-possessed.

"My dear sir," replied Gammon, in a kind of agony, "it is impossible! It never can be! Do you mean to say that you bought it at Mr. Axle's?"

"I should rather think so," replied Titmouse, with a piqued air.

"He's been grossly imposing on you, sir!—Permit me to go at once and get you a proper vehicle."

"'Pon my life, Mr. Gammon, I think that it's a monstrous nice thing—a great bargain—and I've bought it and paid for it, that's more."

"Gentlemen, I appeal to you," confidently said Gammon, turning in an agony to Mr. Yahoo and Mr. Fitz-Snooks.

"As for me, sir," replied the former, coolly, at the same time knocking off the ashes from his cigar;—"since you ask my opinion, I confess I rather like the idea—ha! ha! 'Twill produce a sensation; that's something in this dull life!—Eh, Snooks?"

"Ay—a—I confess I was a little shocked at first, but I think I'm getting over it now," lisped Mr. Fitz-Snooks, adjusting his shirt-collar, and then sipping a little of his brandy and water. "I look upon it, now, as an excellent joke; egad, it beats Chitterfield hollow, though he, too, has done a trick or two lately."

"Did you purchase it as a joke, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Gammon, with forced calmness, nearly choked with suppressed fury.

"Why—a—'pon my life"—said Titmouse, with a desperate effort to appear at his ease—"if you ask me—wonder you don't see it! Of course I did!—Those that don't like it may ride, you know, in the other—can't they? Eh?"

"We shall be hooted at, laughed at, wherever we go," said Mr. Gammon, vehemently.

"Exactly—that's the novelty I like," said Mr. Yahoo, looking, as he spoke, at Mr. Gammon with a smile of ineffable insolence.

Mr. Gammon made him no reply, but fixed an eye upon him, under which he became plainly rather uneasy. He felt outdone. Talk of SCORN!—the eye of Gammon, settled at that instant upon Mr. Yahoo, was its complete and perfect representative; and from that moment the wretch Yahoo felt something like fear of the eye of man, or of submission to it. When, moreover, he beheld the manner in which Titmouse obeyed Gammon's somewhat peremptory request to accompany him out of the room for a moment, he resolved, if possible, to make a friend of Gammon. That gentleman failed, on being alone with Titmouse, in shaking his resolution to travel in the splendid vehicle standing at the door. Titmouse said that he had bought and paid for the carriage; it suited his taste—and where was the harm of gratifying it? Besides, it was already packed—all was prepared for starting. Gammon thereupon gave it up; and, swallowing down his rage as well, and as quickly as he could, endeavored to reconcile himself to this galling and most unexpected predicament.

It seemed that Miss Quirk, however really anxious to go down to Yatton—to do anything, in short, calculated to commit Mr. Titmouse to her—was quite staggered on discovering, and shocked at seeing, the kind of persons who were to be their travelling companions. As for Mr. Yahoo, she recoiled from him with horror at the very first glance. What decent female, indeed, would not have done so? She had retired to a bedchamber, soon after entering the Cabbage-Stalk; and, seeing her two unexpected fellow-travellers, presently sent a chambermaid to request her papa to come to her.

He found her considerably agitated. She wished earnestly to return to Alibi House; and consented to proceed on her journey only on the express promise of Mr. Titmouse and her papa, that no one should be in the carriage in which she went except her papa and Mr. Gammon—unless, indeed, Mr. Titmouse should think proper to make himself the fourth.

Mr. Quirk, on this, sent for Mr. Gammon, who, with a somewhat bad grace, ("Confound it!" thought he, "everything seems going wrong,") undertook to secure Mr. Titmouse's consent to that arrangement.

While Messrs. Quirk and Gammon were closeted together, one of the waiters entered the room occupied by Mr. Titmouse and his friends, and informed him that a lad had brought a parcel for him, which he, the aforesaid lad, had received special orders to deliver into the hands of Mr. Titmouse. Accordingly there was presently shown into the room a little knock-kneed lad, in tarnished livery, in whom Titmouse recollected the boy belonging to Mr. Tag-rag's one-horse chaise; and who gave a small parcel into Mr. Titmouse's hands, "with Mrs. and Miss Tag-rag's respectful respects."

As soon as he had quitted the room, "By Jove! What have we here?" exclaimed Titmouse, just a little flustered as he cut open the string of the parcel. Inside was a packet wrapped up in white paper, and tied in a pretty bow, with narrow white satin ribbons. This again, and another still, within it, having been opened—behold, there stood exposed to view, three fine cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, each of which, on being examined, proved to be marked with the initials "T. T." in hair; and Mr. Yahoo happening to unfold one of them, (in so doing, dropped upon it some of the ashes of his cigar,) lo! in the centre was—also done in hair—the figure of a heart transfixed with an arrow!!! Mr. Yahoo roared; and Mr. Fitz-Snooks lisped, "Is she pretty, Tit? Where's her nest? Any old birds?—eh?"

Titmouse colored a little; then grinned, and put his finger to the side of his nose, and winked his eye, as if favoring the bright idea of Mr. Fitz-Snooks. On a sheet of gilt-edged paper, and sealed with a seal bearing the tender words, "Forget me not," was written the following:

"Sir—Trusting you will excuse the liberty, I send you three best cambric pocket-handkerchiefs, which my daughter have marked with her own hair, and beg your acceptance of, hoping you may be resigned to all the good fortune that may befall you, which is the prayer of, dear sir, yours respectfully,

"Martha Tag-rag.

"P. S.—My daughter sends what you may please to wish and accept: and hope we have the great happiness to see you here again, when you return to town from your noble mansion in the country.

"Satin Lodge, 18th May 18—."

"Oh! the naughty old woman! Fie! Fie!" exclaimed Mr. Yahoo, with his intolerable smile.

"'Pon my soul, there's nothing in it," said Titmouse, reddening.

"Where's Satin Lodge?" lisped Mr. Fitz-Snooks.

"It is a country-house on the—the Richmond road," said Titmouse, with a little hesitation; and just then the return of Gammon, who had resumed his usual calmness of manner, relieved him from his embarrassment. Mr. Gammon had succeeded in effecting the arrangement suggested by Mr. Quirk and his daughter; and within about a quarter of an hour afterwards, behold the ex-sheriff's resplendent but cast-off carriage filled by Miss Quirk and Titmouse, and Mr. Quirk and Gammon—the groom and valet sitting on the coach-box; while in the other, a plain yellow carriage, covered with luggage, sat Mr. Yahoo, Mr. Fitz-Snooks, and Mr. Snap, all of them with lighted cigars—Snap never having been so happy in all his life as at that moment.

Mr. Titmouse had laid aside his cigar in compliment to Miss Quirk; who wore a long black veil, and an elegant light shawl, and looked uncommonly like a young bride setting off—oh, heavens!—thought she—that it had been so!—on her wedding excursion. Mr. Gammon slouched his hat over his eyes, and inclined his head downwards, almost collapsed with vexation and disgust, as he observed the grins and tittering of the group of spectators gathered round the carriage and doorway; but Titmouse, who was most splendidly dressed, took off his hat on sitting down, and bowed several times to—as he supposed—the admiring crowd.

"Get on, boys!" growled Mr. Gammon; and away they rattled, exciting equal surprise and applause whereever they went. Whoever had met them, must have taken Titmouse and Miss Quirk for a newly-married couple—probably the son or daughter of one of the sheriffs who had lent the state carriage to add éclat to the interesting occasion!

With the exception of the sensation produced at every place where they changed horses, the only incident during their journey worth noticing, occurred at the third stage from London. As they came dashing up to the door of the inn, their advent setting all the bells of the establishment ringing, and waiters and hostlers scampering up to them like mad, they beheld a plain and laden dusty travelling-carriage, waiting for horses—and Gammon quickly perceived it to be the carriage of the unfortunate Aubreys! The travellers had alighted. The graceful figure of Miss Aubrey, her face pale, and wearing an expression of manifest anxiety and fatigue, was standing near the door, talking kindly to a beggar-woman, with a cluster of half-naked children around her; while little Aubrey was romping about with Miss Aubrey's beautiful little spaniel Cato; Agnes looking on and laughing merrily, and trying to escape from the hand of her attendant. Mr. and Mrs. Aubrey were talking together, close beside the carriage-door. Gammon observed all this, and particularly that Mr. Aubrey was scrutinizing their appearance, with a sort of half-smile on his countenance, melancholy as it was.

"Horses on!" said Gammon, leaning back in the carriage.

"That's a monstrous fine woman standing at the inn door, Titmouse—eh?" exclaimed Mr. Yahoo, who had alighted for a moment, and stood beside the door of Titmouse's carriage, his execrable eye settled upon Miss Aubrey. "I wonder who and what she is? By Jove, 'tis the face—the figure of an angel! egad, they're somebody; I'll look at their panels!"

"I know who it is," said Titmouse, rather faintly; "I'll tell you by-and-by."

"Now, now! my dear fellow. Our divinity is vanishing," whispered Mr. Yahoo, eagerly, as Miss Aubrey, having slipped something into the beggar's hand, stepped into the carriage. As soon as her brother had entered, the door was closed, and they drove off.

"Who's that, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Miss Quirk, with a little eagerness, observing—women are very quick in detecting such matters—that both Gammon and Titmouse looked rather embarrassed.

"It's the—the Aubreys," replied Titmouse.

"Eh! By Jove!—is it?" quickly inquired old Quirk, putting his head out of the window; "how very odd, to meet the old birds? Egad! their nest must be yet warm—ha! ha!"

"What! dear papa, are those the people you've turned out? Gracious! I thought I heard some one say that Miss Aubrey was pretty! La! I'm sure I thought—now what do you think, Mr. Titmouse?" she added, turning abruptly and looking keenly at him.

"Oh! 'pon my life, I—I—see nothing at all in her—devilish plain, I should say—infernally pale, and all that!"

They were soon on their way again. Titmouse quickly recovered his equanimity, but Gammon continued silent and thoughtful for many—many miles; and the reader would not be surprised at it, if he knew as well as I do the thoughts which the unexpected sight of that travelling-carriage of Mr. Aubrey had suggested to Mr. Gammon.

As they approached the scene of triumph and rejoicing, and ascertained that they were within about a mile of the peaceful little village of Yatton, the travellers began to look out for indications of the kind which Mr. Gammon had mentioned to Titmouse, viz. a band and procession, and an attendant crowd. But however careful and extensive might have been the arrangements of those to whom that matter had been intrusted, they were likely to be sadly interfered with by a circumstance which, happening just then, might, to a weaker and more superstitious mind than that of Mr. Titmouse, have looked a little ominous—namely, the occurrence of a tremendous thunder-storm. It was then about five o'clock in the afternoon. The whole day had been overcast, and the sky threatening; and just as the two carriages came to that turning in the road which gave them the first glimpse of the Hall—only, however, the tops of the great antique brick chimneys, which were visible above the surrounding trees—a fearful, long-continued flash of lightning burst from the angry heavens, followed, after an interval of but a second or two, by a peal of thunder which sounded as if a park of artillery was being repeatedly discharged immediately overhead.

"Mind your horses' heads, boys," called out Mr. Gammon; "keep a tight rein."

Miss Quirk was dreadfully alarmed, and clung to her father; Titmouse also seemed disconcerted, and looked to Gammon, who was perfectly calm, though his face was not free from anxiety. The ghastly glare of the lightning was again around them—all involuntarily hid their faces in their hands—and again rattled the thunder in a peal lasting more than half a minute, and seeming to be in frightful contiguity, as it were only a few yards above their heads. Down, then, came the long-suspended rain, pouring like a deluge, and so it continued, with frequent returns of the thunder and lightning, for nearly a quarter of an hour. The last turning brought them within sight of the village, and also of some fifty or sixty persons crowding under the hedges, on each side—these were the triumphant procession; musicians, flagmen, footmen, horsemen, all dripping with wet, and constituting surely a spectacle piteous to behold. Out, however, they all turned, true to their orders, as soon as they saw the carriages, which immediately slackened their speed—the rain also somewhat abating. The flagman tried desperately to unroll a wet banner, of considerable size, with the words:—

"Welcome to Yatton!"

in gilded letters; while the band (consisting of a man with a big drum, another with a serpent, a third with a trumpet, a fourth with a bassoon, two with clarionets, and a boy with a fife) struck up—"See the conquering hero comes!" They puffed and blew lustily; bang! bang! bang! went the drum; but the rain, the thunder, and the lightning woefully interfered with their harmony. 'Twould have made your heart ache to see the wet flag clinging obstinately to the pole, in spite of all the efforts of its burly bearer! But now for the procession—first, on horseback, was Barnabas Bloodsuck, (senior,) Esq.; beside him rode his son, Barnabas Bloodsuck, (junior,) Esq.; then came the Reverend Gideon Fleshpot, solemn simpleton, the vicar of Grilston, the only Radical clergyman in that part of the country; beside him, the Reverend Smirk Mudflint, a flippant, bitter, little Unitarian parson, a great crony of Mr. Fleshpot, and his surname singularly enough exactly designating the qualities of his brain and heart. Next to these, alone in his one-horse chaise, (looking like a pill-box drawn by a leech,) came the little fat Whig apothecary, Gargle Glister, Esq. Following him came, also in a gig, Going Gone, Esq., the auctioneer—the main prop of the Liberal side, being a most eloquent speaker—and Mr. Hic Hæc Hoc, a learned schoolmaster, who undertook to teach the rudiments of Latin, viz. the Latin grammar up as far as the irregular verbs. Then there were Mr. Centipede, the editor, and Mr. Woodhouse, the publisher and proprietor of the "Yorkshire Stingo," for which, also, Mr. Mudflint wrote a great deal. These, and about a dozen others, the flower of the "party" thereabouts, disdainful of the inclement weather, bent on displaying their attachment to the new owner of Yatton, and solacing each his patient inner man with anticipation of the jolly cheer awaiting him at the Hall, formed the principal part of the procession; the rest consisting of rather a miscellaneous assortment of scot-and-lot and potwalloper-looking people, all very wet and hungry, and very frequently casting looks of devout expectation towards the Hall. Scarcely a villager of Yatton was to be seen stirring; nor did any of the tenants of the estate join in the procession; even had they not felt far otherwise disposed, they had luckily a complete excuse for their non-appearance in the deplorable state of the weather. Sometimes the band played; then a peal of thunder came; then a cry of "hurra! Titmouse forever! hurra!" then the band, and then the thunder, and rain! rain! rain! Thus they got to the park gates, where they paused, the half-drowned men and boys shouting, "Titmouse forever! hurra—a—a!" Mr. Titmouse bobbing about, now at one window, then at the other, with his hat off, in the most gracious manner. Really it seemed almost as if the elements were indicating the displeasure of heaven at Mr. Titmouse's assumption of Yatton; for just as he was passing under the old gateway, out flashed the lightning more vividly than it had yet appeared, and the thunder bellowed and reverberated among the woods as though it would never have ceased. The music and shouting now ended suddenly; carriages, horsemen, pedestrians, quickened their pace in silence, as if anxious to get out of the storm; the horses now and then plunging and rearing violently. Titmouse was terribly frightened, in spite of his desperate efforts to appear unconcerned. He was as pale as death, and looked anxiously at Gammon, as if hoping to derive courage from the sight of his rigid countenance. Miss Quirk trembled violently, and several times uttered a faint scream: but her father, old Mr. Quirk, did not seem to care a pinch of snuff about the whole matter; he rubbed his hands together cheerily, chucked his daughter under the chin, rallied Titmouse, and now and then nudged and jeered Gammon, who seemed disposed to be serious and silent. Having drawn up opposite the Hall door, it was opened by Mr. Griffiths, with a saddened, but still respectful look and manner; and in the same way might be characterized some six or seven servants standing behind him, in readiness to receive the new-comers. The half-drowned musicians tried to strike up "Rule Britannia," as the hero of the day, Mr. Titmouse, descended from his carriage, Mr. Griffiths holding an umbrella for him, and bounded out of the rain with a hop, step, and jump into the Hall, where the first words he was heard to utter, were—

"What a devilish rum old place!"

"God bless you! God bless you! God bless you, Titmouse!" exclaimed old Mr. Quirk, grasping him by the hand as soon as he had entered. Titmouse shook hands with Miss Quirk, who immediately followed a female servant to an apartment, being exceedingly nervous and agitated. Gammon seemed a little out of spirits; and said simply, "You know, Mr. Titmouse, how fervently I congratulate you."

"Oh! my dear boy, Tit, do, for Heaven's sake, if you want the thunder and lightning to cease, order those wretched devils off—send them anywhere, but do stop their cursed noise, my dear boy!" exclaimed Mr. Yahoo, as soon as he had entered, putting his fingers to his ears.

"Mr. what's-your-name," said Titmouse, addressing Mr. Griffiths, "I'll trouble you to order off those fellows and their infernal noise. Demme! there's a precious row making up above, and surely one at a time will do—demme!"

"Ah, ha, capital joke, by Jove! capital!" said Mr. Fitz-Snooks, arranging his shirt-collar.

"A—Titmouse—by Jupiter!" said Mr. Yahoo, as, twirling his fingers about in his long black hair, of which he seemed very proud, he glanced about the Hall, "this a'n't so much amiss! Do you know, my dear boy, I rather like it; it's substantial, antique, and so forth!"

"Who are those dem ugly old fellows up there?" presently exclaimed Titmouse, as, with his glass stuck into his right eye, and his hands into his coat-pockets, he stood staring at the old-fashioned pictures.

"Some of them, sir," replied Mr. Griffiths, with an irrepressible sigh, "are ancestors of the Dreddlingtons, others of the Aubrey families. They are very old, sir," continued Mr. Griffiths, "and are much admired, and Mr. Aubrey desired me to say, that if you should be disposed to part"–

"Oh confound him, he may have 'em all, if he'll pay for 'em, if that's what he wants: I shall soon send them packing off!" Mr. Griffiths bowed, and very nearly shed a tear. By this time the Hall was crowded with the gentlemen who had formed part of the procession, and who came bowing and scraping to the new lord of Yatton, congratulating him, and wishing him health and happiness. As soon as he could disengage himself from their flattering but somewhat troublesome civilities, Tweedle (his valet) came and whispered, "Will you dress, sir? All is ready," and Titmouse followed him to the dressing-room which had formerly been young Mrs. Aubrey's. 'Twas the first time that Titmouse had ever experienced the attentions of a valet; and he was quite nonplussed at the multitudinousness and elegance of the arrangements around him. Such quantities of clothes of all sorts—dressing-implements, curling-irons, combs, brushes, razors, a splendid dressing-case, scents in profusion, oils, bear's-grease, four or five different sorts of soaps, &c. &c. &c.; all this gave Titmouse a far livelier idea of his altered circumstances, of his having really become a GENTLEMAN, than anything which he had up to that moment experienced. He thought his valet one of the cleverest and most obliging men in the world, only somewhat oppressive with his attentions; and at length Mr. Titmouse said he preferred this time, dressing alone, and so dismissed his obsequious attendant; whom, however, he was soon obliged to summon to his assistance after all, not knowing the proper uses of several implements about him. Having completed his toilet, he descended into the drawing-room; which, as well as the dining-room, was ready prepared for the banquet, covers being laid for forty or fifty, and good substantial fare provided for at least as many more, in the servants' hall, where operations had already commenced. On entering the drawing-room, his appearance seemed to produce a great sensation; and after a momentary and embarrassing pause, the only county gentleman who was present, advanced and introduced himself, his wife and daughter. This was Harkaway Rotgut Wildfire, Baronet, a tall and somewhat corpulent man of about fifty, very choleric and overbearing; his countenance showing the hard life he had led, his nose being red, and his forehead and mouth beset with pimples. He had been a bitter political opponent of Mr. Aubrey, and once a member for the county; but had so crippled his resources by hunting and horse-racing, as to compel the sacrifice of their town amusements; viz. his seat in the House of Commons, and Lady Wildfire's box at the opera. This had soured both of them not a little, and they had completely sunk out of the county circle, in which they had once been sufficiently conspicuous. Sir Harkaway had an eye to the borough of Yatton on the happening of the next election, as soon as he had obtained an inkling that the new proprietor of Yatton was a very weak young man; and hence his patronizing presence at Yatton, in consequence of the invitation respectfully conveyed to him in Mr. Titmouse's name, through Messrs. Bloodsuck and Son. Besides Lady Wildfire and her daughter, both of whom had inquired with a sort of haughty curiosity about the lady who had accompanied Mr. Titmouse from town—a point which had been at length cleared up to their satisfaction—there were about a dozen ladies, the wives of the gentlemen who had borne so distinguished a part in the triumphal procession. They certainly looked rather a queer set; and none of them dared to speak either to Lady Wildfire or her daughter till spoken to by them. Never had old Yatton beheld within its walls so motley a group; and had the Aubreys continued there, hospitable as they were, accessible and charitable as they were, I leave the reader to guess whether such creatures ever would have found their way thither. By such guests, however, were the two principal tables crowded on this joyous occasion, and about half-past six o'clock the feast commenced, and a feast it certainly was, both elegant and substantial, nothing having been spared that money could procure. Mr. Aubrey had a fine cellar of wines at Yatton, which, owing to some strange misunderstanding, had been sold by private contract, not among his own friends in the neighborhood, as Mr. Aubrey had intended, and imagined that he had directed, but to Mr. Titmouse. Choice, indeed, were these wines, and supplied on the present occasion in wanton profusion. Champagne, Burgundy, and claret, flowed like water, and the rich old port, sherry, and madeira in like manner;—these last, however, not being confined to the two principal rooms, but finding their way into the servants' hall, where they there drank without stint. Merriment echoed uproariously from all parts of the old Hall, and Mr. Titmouse was universally declared to be a very fine fellow, and likely to become by far the most popular man in the county. The Reverend Mr. Fleshpot said grace, and the Reverend Mr. Mudflint returned thanks; and shortly afterwards Sir Harkaway arose, and, his eye fixed firmly on the adjoining borough, and also on the jolly table which promised to be ever open to him at Yatton, he proposed the health of the distinguished proprietor of Yatton, in a very flattering and energetic speech. The toast was received with the utmost enthusiasm; the gentlemen shouted and jingled their glasses on the table, while the ladies waved their handkerchiefs; indeed the scene was one of such overpowering excitement, that Miss Quirk burst into tears, overcome by her emotions; her papa winking very hard to those about him, and using every exertion in his power to point the attention of those present to the probability that a very near and tender relationship was about to exist between that young lady and Mr. Titmouse. Mr. Gammon, who sat next to Titmouse, assured him that it was absolutely necessary for him to make a speech to the company, in acknowledgment of the compliment which had just been paid him.