She did not come among us on the occasion of this banquet, possibly because we had no tables there to turn in preparation for her presence; but, had she done so, she could not have been more eloquent of things of the other world than was Mrs. Talboys.  I have said that Mrs. Talboys’ eye never glanced more brightly after a glass of Champagne, but I am inclined to think that on this occasion it may have done so.  O’Brien enacted Ganymede, and was, perhaps, more liberal than other latter-day Ganymedes, to whose services Mrs. Talboys had been accustomed.  Let it not, however, be suspected by any one that she exceeded the limits of a discreet joyousness.  By no means!  The generous wine penetrated, perhaps, to some inner cells of her heart, and brought forth thoughts in sparkling words, which otherwise might have remained concealed; but there was nothing in what she thought or spoke calculated to give umbrage either to an anchorite or to a vestal.  A word or two she said or sung about the flowing bowl, and once she called for ; but beyond this her converse was chiefly of the rights of man and the weakness of women; of the iron ages that were past, and of the golden time that was to come.

I landed at Cadiz, and was there joined by an old family friend, one of the very best fellows that ever lived.  He was to accompany me up as far as Seville; and, as he had lived for a year or two at Xeres, was supposed to be more Spanish almost than a Spaniard.  His name was Johnson, and he was in the wine trade; and whether for travelling or whether for staying at home—whether for paying you a visit in your own house, or whether for entertaining you in his—there never was (and I am prepared to maintain there never will be) a stauncher friend, choicer companion, or a safer guide than Thomas Johnson.  Words cannot produce a eulogium sufficient for his merits.  But, as I have since learned, he was not quite so Spanish as I had imagined.  Three years among the bodegas of Xeres had taught him, no doubt, to appreciate the exact twang of a good, dry sherry; but not, as I now conceive, the exactest flavour of the true Spanish character.  I was very lucky, however, in meeting such a friend, and now reckon him as one of the staunchest allies of the house of Pomfret, Daguilar, and Pomfret.

“And Patsey,” said she, “ride for your life; and Patsey, whatever you do, don’t come back without Mr. Green’s pumps—his dancing-shoes you know.”

And in about two hours the pumps did arrive; and I don’t think I ever spent a pleasanter evening or got more satisfaction out of a pair of shoes.  They had not been two minutes on my feet before Larry was carrying a tray of Negus across the room in those which I had worn at dinner.

“The Dillon girls are going to stay here,” said Fanny as I wished her good night at two o’clock.  “And we’ll have dancing every evening as long as you remain.”

“’And at last Mrs. Price got her porter, and Mrs. Cox got her pale ale. ‘I do like pale ale,’ said she; ‘I suppose it’s vulgar, but I can’t help that. What amuses me is, that so many ladies drink it who are quite ashamed to say they like it.’

‘They take it for their health’s sake,’ said Bertram.

‘Oh, yes: of course they do.’”

“And the brows of Major Biffin and Captain M’Gramm were clouded. They had been filling the plates and glasses of these two ladies all the way from Calcutta; they had walked with them every day on deck, had fetched their chairs, picked up their handkerchiefs, and looked after their bottled beer at tiffin-time with an assiduity which is more than commendable in such warm latitudes. And now to be thrown on one side for two travelling Englishmen, one in a brown coat and the other in a black one for two muffs, who had never drunk Sangaree or sat under a punkah!”

“Having uttered these very lugubrious words, and almost succeeded in throwing a wet blanket over the party, he sat down.

‘Now, you’re not going to do anybody else, are you?’ said Madden.

‘Only Twisleton, and Gerard, and Hopgood,’ answered Bertram; ‘and Fortescue looks as if he expected it. Perhaps, however, he’ll let us off till the day after to-morrow.’

And then, with a round of milk punch, another cigar apiece, and a little more chat, the party broke up.”

One man had on an almost new brown frock coat with a black velvet collar, and white trousers. Two had blue swallow-tailed coats with brass buttons; and a fourth, a dashing young lawyer’s clerk from Clement’s Inn, was absolutely stirring a mixture, which he called a Mint Julep, with a yellow kid glove dangling out of his hand.

Sir Thomas went on, with a servant at his heels, chucking about the doors rather violently, till he found Mr. Traffick alone in the drawing-room. Mr. Traffick had had a glass of sherry and bitters brought in for his refreshment, and Sir Thomas saw the glass on the mantelpiece. He never took sherry and bitters himself. One glass of wine, with his two o’clock mutton chop, sufficed him till dinner. It was all very well to be a Member of Parliament, but, after all, Members of Parliament never do anything. Men who work don’t take sherry and bitters! Men who work don’t put their hats in other people’s halls without leave from the master of the house!