tempestuous night, and saw his effects shouldered by a porter, whom he
was invited to follow down to the pier, where the funnel of the
'Horsetend' or Calais boat is moaning dismally. Few lights were
twinkling in the winding old-fashioned streets; but the near vicinity
of ocean was felt uncomfortably in harsh blasts and whistling sounds.
The little old harbour, like that of some fishing-place, offered
scarcely any room. The much-buffeted steamer lay bobbing and springing
at its moorings, while a dingy oil-lamp marked the gangway. A
comforting welcome awaited us from some old salt, who uttered the
cheering announcement that it was 'agoin' to be a roughish night.'

On this night there was an entertainment announced at the 'Rooms,' and
to pass away the time I looked in. It was an elocutionist one,
entitled 'Merry-Making Moments, or, Spanker's Wallet of Varieties,'
with a portrait of Spanker on the bills opening the wallet with an
expression of delight or surprise. This was his 'Grand Competition
Night,' when a 'magnificent goblet' was competed for by all comers,
which I had already seen in a shop window, a blue ribbon reposing in
_dégagé_ fashion across it. If a tumbler of the precious metal could
be called a magnificent goblet--it was scarcely bigger--it deserved
the title. The poor operator was declaiming as I entered, in
unmistakable Scotch, the history of 'Little Breeches,' and giving it
with due pathos. I am bound to say that a sort of balcony which hung
out at the end was well filled by the unwashed takers, or at least
donees, of sixpenny tickets. There was a purpose in this, as will be
seen. After being taken through 'The Raven,' and 'The Dying Burglar,'
the competition began. This was certainly the most diverting portion
of the entertainment, from its genuineness, the eagerness of the
competitors, and their ill-disguised jealousy. There were four
candidates. A doctor-looking man with a beard, and who had the air