people. It was worth a guinea to see the simple Colonel, and his delight
at the music. He forgot all about the distinguished wits whom he had
expected to see in his ravishment over the glees.

"I say, Clive, this is delightful. This is better than your aunt's
concert with all the Squallinis, hey? I shall come here often. Landlord,
may I venture to ask those gentlemen if they will take any refreshment?
What are their names?" (to one of his neighbours). "I was scarcely
allowed to hear any singing before I went out, except an oratorio, where
I fell asleep; but this, by George, is as fine as Incledon!" He became
quite excited over his sherry-and-water-("I'm sorry to see you,
gentlemen, drinking brandy-pawnee," says he; "it plays the deuce with our
young men in India.") He joined in all the choruses with an exceedingly
sweet voice. He laughed at "The Derby Ram" so that it did you good to
hear him; and when Hoskins sang (as he did admirably) "The Old English
Gentleman," and described, in measured cadence, the death of that
venerable aristocrat, tears trickled down the honest warrior's cheek,
while he held out his hand to Hoskins and said, "Thank you, sir, for that
song; it is an honour to human nature." On which Hoskins began to cry
too.

And now young Nadab, having been cautioned, commenced one of those
surprising feats of improvisation with which he used to charm audiences.
He took us all off, and had rhymes pat about all the principal persons in
the room: King's pins (which he wore very splendid), Martin's red
waistcoat, etc. The Colonel was charmed with each feat, and joined
delighted with the chorus--"Ritolderol ritolderol ritolderolderay" (bis).
And when, coming to the Colonel himself, he burst out--

"A military gent I see--And while his face I scan,