There was a fine cold collation, to which the friends of the Ladies-Patronesses were admitted; after which, my ladies and their beaux went strolling through the walks; Tagrag and the Count having each an arm of Jemmy; the Baron giving an arm apiece to Madame and Jemimarann. Whilst they were walking, whom should they light upon but poor Orlando Crump, my successor in the perfumery and hair-cutting.
"Orlando!" says Jemimarann, blushing as red as a label, and holding out her hand.
"Jemimar!" says he, holding out his, and turning as white as pomatum.
"SIR!" says Jemmy, as stately as a duchess.
"What! madam," says poor Crump, "don't you remember your shopboy?""Dearest mamma, don't you recollect Orlando?" whimpers Jemimarann, whose hand he had got hold of.
"Miss Tuggeridge Coxe," says Jemmy, "I'm surprised of you.
Remember, sir, that our position is altered, and oblige me by no more familiarity.""Insolent fellow!" says the Baron, "vat is dis canaille?""Canal yourself, Mounseer," says Orlando, now grown quite furious:
he broke away, quite indignant, and was soon lost in the crowd.
Jemimarann, as soon as he was gone, began to look very pale and ill; and her mamma, therefore, took her to a tent, where she left her along with Madame Flicflac and the Baron; going off herself with the other gentlemen, in order to join us.
It appears they had not been seated very long, when Madame Flicflac suddenly sprung up, with an exclamation of joy, and rushed forward to a friend whom she saw pass.
The Baron was left alone with Jemimarann; and, whether it was the champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than commonly pretty, Idon't know; but Madame Flicflac had not been gone a minute, when the Baron dropped on his knees, and made her a regular declaration.
Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by this time, and was standing by my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, to the famous Bohemian Minnesingers, who were singing the celebrated words of the poet Gothy:--"Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee.
Wir sind doch hupp lily lee, hupp la lily lee.""Chorus--Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp! yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o!"They were standing with their hands in their waistcoats, as usual, and had just come to the "o-o-o," at the end of the chorus of the forty-seventh stanza, when Orlando started: "That's a scream!" says he. "Indeed it is," says I; "and, but for the fashion of the thing, a very ugly scream too:" when I heard another shrill "Oh!"as I thought; and Orlando bolted off, crying, "By heavens, it's HERvoice!" "Whose voice?" says I. "Come and see the row," says Tag.
And off we went, with a considerable number of people, who saw this strange move on his part.
We came to the tent, and there we found my poor Jemimarann fainting; her mamma holding a smelling-bottle; the Baron, on the ground, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose; and Orlando squaring at him, and calling on him to fight if he dared.
My Jemmy looked at Crump very fierce. "Take that feller away,"says she; "he has insulted a French nobleman, and deserves transportation, at the least."Poor Orlando was carried off. "I've no patience with the little minx," says Jemmy, giving Jemimarann a pinch. "She might be a Baron's lady; and she screams out because his Excellency did but squeeze her hand.""Oh, mamma! mamma!" sobs poor Jemimarann, "but he was t-t-tipsy.""T-t-tipsy! and the more shame for you, you hussy, to be offended with a nobleman who does not know what he is doing."A TOURNAMENT.
"I say, Tug," said MacTurk, one day soon after our flareup at Beulah, "Kilblazes comes of age in October, and then we'll cut you out, as I told you: the old barberess will die of spite when she hears what we are going to do. What do you think? we're going to have a tournament!" "What's a tournament?" says Tug, and so said his mamma when she heard the news; and when she knew what a tournament was, I think, really, she WAS as angry as MacTurk said she would be, and gave us no peace for days together. "What!" says she, "dress up in armor, like play-actors, and run at each other with spears? The Kilblazes must be mad! "And so I thought, but Ididn't think the Tuggeridges would be mad too, as they were: for, when Jemmy heard that the Kilblazes' festival was to be, as yet, a profound secret, what does she do, but send down to the Morning Post a flaming account of "THE PASSAGE OF ARMS AT TUGGERIDGEVIILLE!
"The days of chivalry are NOT past. The fair Castellane of T-gg-r-dgeville, whose splendid entertainments have so often been alluded to in this paper, has determined to give one, which shall exceed in splendor even the magnificence of the Middle Ages. We are not at liberty to say more; but a tournament, at which His Ex-l-ncy B-r-n de P-nt-r and Thomas T-gr-g, Esq., eldest son of Sir Th--s T-gr-g, are to be the knights-defendants against all comers; a QUEENOF BEAUTY, of whose loveliness every frequenter of fashion has felt the power; a banquet, unexampled in the annals of Gunter; and a ball, in which the recollections of ancient chivalry will blend sweetly with the soft tones of Weippert and Collinet, are among the entertainments which the Ladye of T-gg-ridgeville has prepared for her distinguished guests."The Baron was the life of the scheme; he longed to be on horseback, and in the field at Tuggeridgeville, where he, Tagrag, and a number of our friends practised: he was the very best tilter present; he vaulted over his horse, and played such wonderful antics, as never were done except at Ducrow's.
