young lad, and thought what my own sensations would have been if, in that
place, my own uncle, Major Pendennis, had suddenly proposed to exert his
lyrical powers.

The Colonel selected the ditty of "Wapping Old Stairs" (a ballad so sweet
and touching that surely any English poet might be proud to be the father
of it), and he sang this quaint and charming old song in an exceedingly
pleasant voice, with flourishes and roulades in the old Incledon manner,
which has pretty nearly passed away. The singer gave his heart and soul
to the simple ballad, and delivered Molly's gentle appeal so pathetically
that even the professional gentlemen hummed and buzzed--a sincere
applause; and some wags who were inclined to jeer at the beginning of the
performance, clinked their glasses and rapped their sticks with quite a
respectful enthusiasm. When the song was over, Clive held up his head
too; after the shock of the first verse, looked round with surprise and
pleasure in his eyes; and we, I need not say, backed our friend,
delighted to see him come out of his queer scrape so triumphantly. The
Colonel bowed and smiled with very pleasant good-nature at our plaudits.
It was like Dr. Primrose preaching his sermon in the prison. There was
something touching in the naivete and kindness of the placid and simple
gentleman.

Great Hoskins, placed on high, amidst the tuneful choir, was pleased to
signify his approbation, and gave his guest's health in his usual
dignified manner. "I am much obliged to you, sir," says Mr. Hoskins; "the
room ought to be much obliged to you: I drink your 'ealth and song, sir;"
and he bowed to the Colonel politely over his glass of brandy-and-water,
of which he absorbed a little in his customer's honour. "I have not heard
that song," he was kind enough to say, "better performed since Mr.
Incledon sung it. He was a great singer, sir, and I may say, in the words