room, and has never taken the least notice of me since, except to state
to the rest of the family that I am doomed irrevocably to perdition.

Well, one day last season, I had received from my kind and most
estimable friend, MRS. PERKINS OF POCKLINGTON SQUARE (to whose amiable
family I have had the honor of giving lessons in drawing, French, and
the German flute), an invitation couched in the usual terms, on satin
gilt-edged note-paper, to her evening-party; or, as I call it, "Ball."

Besides the engraved note sent to all her friends, my kind patroness had
addressed me privately as follows:--


MY DEAR MR. TITMARSH,--If you know any VERY eligible young man, we give
you leave to bring him. You GENTLEMEN love your CLUBS so much now, and
care so little for DANCING, that it is really quite A SCANDAL. Come
early, and before EVERYBODY, and give us the benefit of all your taste
and CONTINENTAL SKILL.

"Your sincere

"EMILY PERKINS."


"Whom shall I bring?" mused I, highly flattered by this mark of
confidence; and I thought of Bob Trippett; and little Fred Spring, of
the Navy Pay Office; Hulker, who is rich, and I knew took lessons
in Paris; and a half-score of other bachelor friends, who might be
considered as VERY ELIGIBLE--when I was roused from my meditation by the
slap of a hand on my shoulder; and looking up, there was the Mulligan,