260 TYLNEY HALL. expressions not exactly cut out for the ear of our present Licenser. " Hush ! fourteen,, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen," continued Mrs. Twigg, with the action of a mandarin. te Drat that Pompey ! I know there's more heads than plates." And she rushed off to scold the oblivious black. The poor African, indeed, during the last half hour, had fully entitled himself to receive, what Twigg, junior, would have called a regular good wigging. A breath of air displaying, for the first time, the iron- mongers' banner, it was discovered that the obtuse negro had hoisted it reversed, with all the armorial bearings of that Worshipful Company standing on their heads ; and in absurdly attempting to rectify this blunder, by swarm- ing up the staff, down came Pompey, pole, flag, and all, on the dignified head of the Hon. Mr. Danvers, who was indulging his preference for looking on. His next exploit was in bowing and backing to make way for Mr. Justice Rivers, whereby he got a fair roll and tumble over Miss Bower, one of the shepherdesses, who was sitting very pastorally on the grass ; and, by and by, recollecting some neglected previous order, he ran off headlong to execute it, popping down a trayfull of ices, to thaw and dissolve themselves into a dew, under the broiling sun. A long hundred of such little enormities were committed by the wrongheaded Hottentot ; but only imagine the amazement of his mistress, when she saw him gravely conveying a reinforcement of cake and wine to the green-house in a common handbarrow'; and conceive her still greater horror when he came back on the broad grin, with the same vehicle containing the helpless, portly body of the coachman, as drunk as the celebrated sow of David. The only possible thing that could be urged in favour of the sot, was, that he was not cross in his cups, for during his progress he persisted in singing a jolly song, quite as broad as it was long, with all the voice that he had left. " I shall faint away ! I shall go wild ! I shall die on the spot!" exclaimed the distressed mistress of the Hive j " I wonder where Mr. T. is ? That Pompey is enough to has any body seen Mr, T. ? It is really cruel
TYLNEY HALL. 26l what can a woman do with a tipsy man ? Do run about, Peter, and look for your master, Mr. T. ! Mr. T.! Mr. T. !" But no one responded to the invocation, although the whole grounds resounded, gradually, with an universal call for Mr. Twigg. The unhappy lady was in despair she feared she knew not what. When she last saw him, he had been worked up by successive mistakes and accidents to an awful pitch of nervous excitement, and she did not feel sure that he had not actually run away in a paroxysm of disgust and horror, leaving her, like Lady Macbeth, to huddle up the banquet as she might. At last a popping sound attracted her to the tent, and there she found the wished-for personage, cursing and swearing in a whisper, and stopping with each thumb a bottle of champagne, which had suffered so from the hot weather, that the fixed air had determined on visiting the fresh. " " Oh, Mr. T., what would you think ! began the and the following dia- poor hostess, but he cut her short ; logue ensued.