dressing-case, so as to be ready for the beard which was not yet born (as
yearling brides provide lace caps, and work rich clothes, for the
expected darling); when to ride in the Park on a ten-shilling hack seemed
to be the height of fashionable enjoyment, and to splash your college
tutor as you were driving down Regent Street in a hired cab the triumph
of satire; when the acme of pleasure seemed to be to meet Jones of
Trinity at the Bedford, and to make an arrangement with him, and with
King of Corpus (who was staying at the Colonnade), and Martin of Trinity
Hall (who was with his family in Bloomsbury Square), to dine at the
Piazza, go to the play and see Braham in Fra Diavolo, and end the frolic
evening by partaking of supper and a song at the "Cave of Harmony."--It
was in the days of my own youth, then, that I met one or two of the
characters who are to figure in this history, and whom I must ask leave
to accompany for a short while, and until, familiarised with the public,
they can make their own way. As I recall them the roses bloom again, and
the nightingales sing by the calm Bendemeer.

Going to the play, then, and to the pit, as was the fashion in those
honest days, with some young fellows of my own age, having listened
delighted to the most cheerful and brilliant of operas, and laughed
enthusiastically at the farce, we became naturally hungry at twelve
o'clock at night, and a desire for welsh-rabbits and good old
glee-singing led us to the "Cave of Harmony," then kept by the celebrated
Hoskins, among whose friends we were proud to count.

We enjoyed such intimacy with Mr. Hoskins that he never failed to greet
us with a kind nod; and John the waiter made room for us near the
President of the convivial meeting. We knew the three admirable
glee-singers, and many a time they partook of brandy-and-water at our
expense. One of us gave his call dinner at Hoskins's, and a merry time we