no laughter-moving subject.

I rang the bell hastily for my servant. The door opened.

"Stubbes," said I, "are you aware"----

I had only got so far in my question, when my servant, one of the most
discreet of men, put on a broad grin, and turned away towards the door to
hide his face.

"What the devil does this mean?" said I, stamping with passion; "he is as
bad as the rest. Stubbes," and this I spoke with the most grave and
severe tone, "what is the meaning of the insolence?"

"Oh, sir," said the man; "Oh, sir, surely you did not appear on parade
with that face?" and then he burst into a fit of the most uncontrollable
laughter.

Like lightning a horrid doubt shot across my mind. I sprung over to the
dressing-glass, which had been replaced, and oh: horror of horrors!
There I stood as black as the king of Ashantee. The cursed dye which I
had put on for Othello, I had never washed off,--and there with a huge
bear-skin shako, and a pair of black, bushy whiskers, shone my huge,
black, and polished visage, glowering at itself in the looking-glass.

My first impulse, after amazement had a little subsided, was to laugh
immoderately; in this I was joined by Stubbes, who, feeling that his
mirth was participated in, gave full vent to his risibility. And,
indeed, as I stood before the glass, grinning from ear to ear, I felt
very little surprise that my joining in the laughter of my brother