with he inducts him into their acquaintance-Hetherington's, Hyæna's, and all.

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It is, doubtless, very flattering of great people to vote all the little ones one of us," and not introduce them to anybody, but we take leave to say that society is considerably improved by a judicious presentation. We talk of our advanced civilization, but manners are not nearly so good, or so "at-ease-setting," as they were with the last generation of apparently stiffer, but in reality easier, more affable gentlemen of the old school. But what a note of admiration our Billy is! How gloriously he is attired. His naturally curling hair, how gracefully it flows; his elliptic collar, how faultlessly it stands; his cravat, how correct; his shirt, how wonderfully fine; and, oh! how happy he must be with such splendid sparkling diamond studs-such beautiful amethyst buttons at his wrists-and such a love of a chain disporting itself over his richly embroidered bloodstone-buttoned vest. Altogether, such a first class swell is rarely seen beyond the bills of mortality. He looks as if he ought to be kept under a glass shade. But here comes the Bumbler, and now for the agony of the enter tainment.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE GRAND SPREAD ITSELF

THE Major, who for the last few minutes has been fidgeting about pairing parties off according to a written programme he has in his waistcoat pocket, has just time to assign Billy to Mrs. Rocket Larkspur, to assuage her anguish at not being taken in before Mrs. Crickleton, when the Bumbler's half-fledged voice is heard proclaiming at its utmost altitude-" DINNER IS SARVED!" Then there is such a bobbing and bowing, and backing of chairs, and such inward congratulations that the "orrid 'alf 'our" is over, and hopes from some that they may not get next the fire-while others wish to be there. Though the Major could not, perhaps, manage to get twenty thousand men out of Hyde Park, he can, nevertheless, manœuvre a party out of his drawing-room into his dining-room, and forthwith he led the way, with Mrs. Crickleton under his arm, trusting to the reel winding off right at the end. And right it would most likely have wound off had not the leg-protruding Bumbler's tongue-buckle caught the balloon-like amplitude of Mrs. Rocket Larkspur's dress and caused a slight stoppage-in the passage, during which time two couples slipped past and so deranged the entire order of the table. However, there was no great harm done, as far as Mrs. Larkspur's consequence was concerned, for she got next Mr. Tightplace, with Mr. Pringle between her and Miss Yammerton, whom Mrs. Larkspur had just got to admit that she wouldn't mind being Mrs. P- and Miss having been thus confidential, Mrs. was inclined, partly out of gratitude-partly, perhaps, because she couldn't help it-to befriend her. She was a great mouser, and would promote the most forlorn hope, sooner than not be doing.

We are now in the dining-room, and very smart everything is. In the centre of the table, of course, stands the Yammerton testimonial,-a "Savory "chased silverplated candelabrum, with six branches, all lighted up,

and an ornamental centre flower-basket, decorated with evergreens and winter roses, presented to our friend on his completing his “five-and-twentieth year as master of harriers," and in gratitude for the unparalleled sport he had uniformly shown the subscribers.

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Testimonializing has become quite a mania since the Major got his, and no one can say whose turn it may be next. It is not everybody who, like Mr. Daniel Whittle Harvey with the police force one, can nip them in the bud; but Inspector Field, we think, might usefully combine testimonial-detecting with his other secret services. He would have plenty to do—especially in the provinces. Indeed London does not seem to be exempt from the mania, if we may judge by Davis the Queen's huntsman's recent attempt to avert the intended honour; neatly informing the projectors that their continuing to meet him in the hunting field would be the best proof of their approbation of his conduct." However, the Major got his testimonial; and there it stands, flanked by two pretty imitation Dresden vases decorated with flowers and evergreens also. And now the company being at length seated and grace said, the reeking covers are removed from the hare and mock turtle tureens, and the confusion of tongues gradually subsides into sip-sip-sipping of soup. And now Jarperson, having told his newly-caught footman groom to get him hare soup instead of mock turtle, the lad takes the plate of the latter up to the tureen of the former, and his master gets a mixture of both-which he thinks very good.

And now the nutty sherry comes round, which the Major introduces with a stuttering exordium that would induce any one who didn't know him to suppose it cost at least 80s. a-dozen, instead of 36s. (bottles included); and this being sipped and smacked and pronounced excellent, two fishes" replace the two soups, and the banquet proceeds, Mr. Tightlace trying to poke his sporting knowledge at Billy between heats, but without success, the commoner not rising at the bait, indeed rather shirking it.

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A long-necked green bottle of what the Bumbler called "bluecellas," then goes its rounds; and the first qualms of hunger being appeased, the gentlemen are more inclined to talk and listen to the luncheon-dining ladies. Mrs. Rocket Larkspur has been waiting most anxiously for Billy's last mouthful, in order to interrogate him, as well as to London fashion, as to his

opinions of the Miss "ums." Of course with Miss "um" sitting just below Billy, the latter must be done through the medium of the former,—so she leads off upon London.

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She supposed he'd been very gay in London ?"

Yarse," drawled Billy in the true dandified style, drawing his napkin across his lips as he spoke.

Mrs. Rocket wasn't so young as she had been, and Billy was too young to take up with what he profanely called "old ladies.'

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He'd live at the west-end, she s'posed?"

Yarse," replied Billy, feeling his amplified tie.

"Did he know Billiter Square ?"

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Yarse," replied he, running his ringed fingers down his studs.

"Was it fashionable?" asked Mrs. Rocket. (She had a cousin lived there who had asked her to go and see her.)

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Y-a-a-rse, I should say it is," drawled Billy, now playing with a bunch of trinkets, a gold miniature pistol, a pearl and diamond studded locket, a gold pencil-case, and a white cornelian heart, suspended to his watch-chain. Y-a-a-rse, I should say it is," repeated he; adding "not so fashionable as Belgrave." 'Sceuse me, sare," interrupted Monsieur Jean Rougier from behind his master's chair, 'Sceuse me, it is not fashionable, sare-it is not near de Palace or de Park of Hyde, sare, bot down away among those dem base mechanics in de east-beyond de Mansion 'Ouse, in fact."

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“Oh, ah, y-a-a-rse, true," replied Billy, not knowing where it was, but presuming from Mrs. Larkspur's inquiry that it was some newly sprung-up square on one of the western horns of the metropolis.

The

Taking advantage of the interruption, Mr. Tightlace again essayed to edge in his " British Sportsman" knowledge, beginning with an inquiry if "the Earl of Ladythorne had a good set of dogs this season?" but the Bumbler soon cut short the thread of his discourse by presenting a bottle of brisk gooseberry at his ear. fizzing stuff then went quickly round, taxing the ingenuity of the drinkers to manœuvre the frothy fluid out of their needlecase-shaped glasses. Then as conversation was beginning to be restored, the door suddenly flew open to a general rush of returning servants. There was Solomon carrying a sirloin of beef, followed by Mr. Crickleton's gaudy red-and-yellow young man

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with a boiled turkey, who in turn was succeeded by Mr. Rocket Larkspur's hobbledehoy with a ham, and Mr. Tightlace's with a stew. Pâtés and cotelettes, and minces, and messes follow in quick succession; and these having taken their seats, immediately vacate them for the Chiltern-hundreds of the hand. A shoal of vegetables and sundries alight on the side table, and the feast seems fairly under weigh.

But see! somehow it prospers not!

People stop short at the second or third mouthful, and lay down their knives and forks as if they had had quite enough. Patties, and cutlets, and sausages, and side-dishes, all share the same fate!

"Take round the champagne," says the Major, with an air, thinking to retrieve the character of his kitchen with the solids. The juicy roast beef, and delicate white turkey with inviting green stuffing, and rich red ham, and turnip-and-carrot-adorned stewed beef then make their progresses, but the same fate attends them also. People stop at the second or third mouthful;—some send their plates away slily, and ask for a little of a different dish to what they have been eating, or rather tasting. That, however, shares the same fate.

"Take round the champagne," again says the Major, trying what another cheerer would do. Then he invites the turkey-eaters-or leavers, rather to eat beef; and the beef-eaters-or leavers-to eat turkey; but they all decline with a thoroughly satisfied "no-more-for-me " sort of shake of the head.

Take away!" at length says the Major, with an air of disgust, following the order with an invitation to Mrs. Rocket Larkspur to take wine. The guests follow the host's example, and a momentary rally of liveliness ensues. Mrs. Rocket Larkspur and Mr. Tightlace contend for Fine Billy's ear; but Miss Yammerton interposing with a sly whisper supersedes them both. Mrs. Rocket construes that accordingly. A general chirp of conversation is presently established, interspersed with heavy demands upon the bread-basket by the gentlemen. Presently the door is thrown open, and a grand procession of sweets enters-jellies, blancmanges, open tarts, shut tarts, meringues, plum pudding, maccaroni, black puddings, we know not what besides; and the funds of conviviality again look up. The rally is, however, but of momentary duration. The same evil genius that awaited on the second course seems to attend on the third. People stop at the second or third mouthful

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