where everybody was saying witty things, and everybody of fashion and repute tearing her friends to pieces in the most delightful manner, it is possible that the stranger would not be very talkative, and by no means interesting or interested.

And it must be remembered, that this poor lady had never met a gentleman in her life until this present moment. Perhaps these are rarer personages than some of us think for. Which of us can point out many such in his circlemen whose aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind, but elevated in its degree; i whose want of meanness makes them simple: who can look t the world honestly in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small? We all know a hundred whose coats are very well made, and a score who have excellent manners, and one or two happy beings who are what they call, in the inner circles, and have shot into the very centre and bull's-eye of the fashion; but of gentlemen how many? Let us take a little scrap of paper and each make out his list.

My friend the major I write, without any doubt, in mine. He had very long legs, a yellow face, and a slight lisp, which at first was rather ridiculous. But his thoughts were just, his brains were fairly good, his life was honest and pure, and his heart warm and humble. He certainly had very large hands and feet, which the two George Osbornes used to caricature and laugh at; and their jeers and laughter p perhaps led poor little Emmy astray as to his worth. But have we not all been misled about our heroes, and changed our opinions a hundred times? Emmy, in this happy time, found that hers underwent a very great change in respect of the merits of the major.

Perhaps it was the happiest time of both their lives indeed, if they did but know it-and who does? Which of us can point out and say that was the culmination—that was the summit of human joy? But at all events, this G couple were very decently contented and enjoyed as pleasant a summer tour as any pair that left England that year. Georgy was always present at the play, but it was the major who put Emmy's shawl on after the entertainment; and in the walks and excursions the young lad would be on ahead, and up a tower-stair or a tree, whilst the soberer couple were below, the major smoking his cigar with great placidity and constancy, whilst Emmy sketched the site or

༔

the ruin. It was on this very tour that I, the present writer of a history of which every word is true, had the pleasure to see them first, and to make their acquaintance.

It was at the little comfortable 2 ducal town of Pumpernickel (that very place where Sir Pitt Crawley had been so distinguished as an attaché; but that was in early, early days, and before the news of the battle of Austerlitz sent all the English diplomatists in Germany to the right-about) that I first saw Colonel Dobbin and his party. They had arrived with the carriage and courier at the Erbprinz' Hotel, the best of the town, and the whole party dined at the table d'hôte. Everybody remarked the majesty of Jos, and the knowing way in which he sipped, or rather sucked, the Johannisberger, which he ordered for dinner. The little boy, too, we observed, had a famous appetite, and consumed Schinken and Braten, and Kartoffeln, and cranberry jam, and salad, and pudding, and roast fowls, and sweetmeats, with a gallantry that did honour to his nation. After about fifteen dishes, he concluded the repast with dessert, some of which he even carried out of doors; for some young gentlemen at table, amused with his coolness and gallant free and easy manner, induced him to pocket a handful of macaroons, which he discussed on his way to the theatre, whither everybody went in the cheery social little German place. The lady in black, the boy's mamma, laughed and blushed, and looked exceedingly pleased and shy as the dinner went on, and at the various feats and instances of espièglerie on the part of her son. The colonel-for so he became very soon afterwards-I remember joked the boy with a great deal of grave fun, pointing out dishes which he hadn't tried, and entreating him not to balk his appetite, but to have a second supply of this or that.

It was what they call a Gast-rolle night at the Royal Grand Ducal Pumpernickelisch Hof-or Court-Theatre: and Madame Schroeder Devrient, then in the bloom of her beauty and genius, performed the part of the heroine in the wonderful opera of Fidelio. From our places in the stalls we could see our four friends of the table d'hôte, in the loge which Schwendler of the 'Erbprinz' kept for his best guests: and I could not help remarking the effect which the magnificent actress and music produced upon Mrs. Osborne, for so we had heard the stout gentleman in the moustachios

6

call her. During the astonishing Chorus of the Prisoners over which the delightful voice of the actress rose and soared in the most ravishing harmony, the English lady's face wore such an expression of wonder and delight that it struck even little Fipps, the blasé attaché, who drawled out, as he fixed his glass upon her, Gayd, it really does one good to see a woman caypable of that stayt of excaytement.' And in the Prison Scene where Fidelio, rushing to her husband, cries Nichts, nichts, mein Florestan', she fairly lost herself and covered her face with her handkerchief. Every woman in the house was snivelling at the time but I suppose it was because it was predestined that I was to write this particular lady's memoirs, that I remarked her. The next day they gave another piece of Beethoven: Die Schlacht bei Vittoria. Malbrook is introduced at the beginning of the performance, as indicative of the brisk advance of the French Army. Then come drums, trumpets, thunder of artillery, and groans of the dying, and at last in a grand triumphal swell, God save the King' is performed.

There may have been a score of Englishmen in the house, but at the burst of that beloved and well-known music, every one of them, we young fellows in the stalls, Sir John and Lady Bullminster (who had taken a house at Pumpernickel for the education of their nine children), the fat gentleman with the moustachios, the long major in white duck trousers, and the lady with the little boy upon whom he was so sweet even Kirsch, the courier in the gallery, stood bolt upright in their places, and proclaimed themselves to be members of the dear old British nation. As for Tapeworm, the chargé d'affaires,3 he rose up in his box and bowed and simpered, as if he would represent the whole empire. Tapeworm was nephew and heir of old Marshal Tiptoff, who has been introduced in this story as General Tiptoff, just before Waterloo, who was colonel of the —th regiment, in which Major Dobbin served, and who died in this year full of honours, and of an aspic of plovers' eggs; when the regiment was graciously given by his majesty to Colonel Sir Michael O'Dowd, K.C.B., who had commanded it in many glorious fields.

Tapeworm must have met with Colonel Dobbin at the house of the colonel's colonel, the marshal, for he recognized him on this night at the theatre; and with the utmost

condescension, his majesty's minister came over from his own box, and publicly shook hands with his new-found friend.

6

Look at that infernal sly-boots of a Tapeworm,' Fipps whispered, examining his chief from the stalls.

Wherever

And

there's a pretty woman he always twists himself in.' I wonder what were diplomatists made for but for that? "Have I the honour of addressing myself to Mrs. Dobbin?' asked the secretary, with a most insinuating grin.

Georgy burst out laughing, and said, ' By Jove, that is
Emmy and the major blushed: we saw them

a good un.'

from the stalls.

.

This lady is Mrs. George Osborne,' said the major, and this is her brother, Mr. Sedley, a distinguished officer of the Bengal Civil Service: permit me to introduce him to your lordship.'

My lord nearly sent Jos off his legs, with the most fascinating smile. Are you going to stop in Pumpernickel?' he

6

said. 'It is a dull place but we want some nice people, and we would try and make it so agreeable to you. Mr.Ahum-Mrs.-Oho. I shall do myself the honour of calling upon you to-morrow at your inn.'-And he went away with a Parthian grin and glance, which he thought must finish Mrs. Osborne completely.

The performance over, the young fellows lounged about the lobbies, and we saw the society take its departure. The duchess dowager went off in her jingling old coach, attended by two faithful and withered old maids of honour, and a little snuffy spindle-shanked gentleman in waiting, in a brown jasey and a green coat covered with orders-of which the star and the grand yellow cordon of the order of St. Michael of Pumpernickel was most conspicuous. The drums rolled, the guards saluted, and the old carriage drove away.

Then came his transparency the duke and transparent i family, with his great officers of state and household. He bowed serenely to everybody. And amid the saluting of the guards and the flaring of the torches of the running footmen, clad in scarlet, the transparent carriages drove away to the old Ducal Schloss, with its towers and pinnacles standing on the Schlossberg. Everybody in Pumpernickel knew everybody. No sooner was a foreigner seen there than the Minister of Foreign Affairs, or some other great or small officer of state, went round to the 'Erbprinz,' and found out the name of the new arrival.

We watched them too, out of the theatre. Tapeworm had just walked off, enveloped in his cloak, with which his gigantic chasseur was always in attendance, and looking as much as possible like Don Juan. The Prime Minister's lady had just squeezed herself into her sedan, and her daughter, the charming Ida, had put on her calash and clogs; when the English party came out, the boy yawning drearily, the major taking great pains in keeping the shawl over Mrs. Osborne's head, and Mr. Sedley looking grand, with a crush opera-hat on one side of his head, and his hand in the stomach of a voluminous white waistcoat. We took off our hats to our acquaintances of the table d'hôte, and the lady, in return, presented us with a little smile and a curtsy,, for which everybody might be thankful.

The carriage from the inn, under the superintendence of the bustling Mr. Kirsch, was in waiting to convey the