joy in store for him. Scully was Perkins's Napoleon--he yielded
himself up to the attorney, body and soul.

Whilst this scene was going on under one chandelier of the ballroom,
beneath the other scarlet little General Gorgon, sumptuous Lady
Gorgon, the daughters and niece Gorgons, were standing surrounded by
their Tory court, who affected to sneer and titter at the Whig
demonstrations which were taking place.

"What a howwid thmell of whithkey!" lisped Cornet Fitch, of the
Dragoons, to Miss Lucy, confidentially. "And thethe are what they
call Whigth, are they? He! he!"

"They are drunk, ----- me,--drunk, by -----!" said the General to
the Mayor.

"WHICH is Scully?" said Lady Gorgon, lifting her glass gravely (she
was at that very moment thinking of the syllabubs). "Is it that
tipsy man in the green coat, or that vulgar creature in the blue
one?"

"Law, my Lady," said the Mayoress, "have you forgotten him? Why,
that's him in blue and buff."

"And a monthous fine man, too," said Cornet Fitch. "I wish we had
him in our twoop--he'th thix feet thwee, if he'th an inch; ain't he,
Genewal?"

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