hands on the upper storey;--could not but perceive that something
dreadful was happening. The Admiral's face turned from crimson to
purple; he positively choked.

The situation needed a solution. A wag among the crowd hit upon it.

"Tell th' Admiral, some of 'ee: what day es et?"

"Fust of April!" cried a voice, then another; and then--

Then the throng broke into roar upon roar of inextinguishable
laughter. The whole deluded town turned and cast its April folly, as
a garment, upon the Admiral's shoulders. It was in vain that he
stamped and raved and swore. They only held their sides and laughed
the louder.

The credit of Trojan humour was saved. With a final oath the Admiral
dashed through his front gate and into the house. The _volgus
infidum_ formed in procession again, and marched back with shouts of
merriment; the _popularis aura_ of the five-and-twenty fifers resumed
the "Conquering Hero," and Mr. Fogo was left standing alone in the
middle of the road.




CHAPTER III.


OF A BLUE-JERSEYED MAN THAT WOULD HOIST NO MORE BRICKS; AND A