the generosity
of her rival.

At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ravenswing came. In the
trio of Baroski's own opera of "Eliogabalo," "Rosy lips and rosy wine,"
Miss Larkins, who was evidently unwell, was taking the part of the
English captive, which she had sung in public concerts before royal
dukes, and with considerable applause, and, from some reason, performed
it so ill, that Baroski, slapping down the music on the piano in a fury,
cried, "Mrs. Howard Walker, as Miss Larkins cannot sing to-day, will
you favour us by taking the part of Boadicetta?" Mrs. Walker got up
smilingly to obey--the triumph was too great to be withstood; and, as
she advanced to the piano, Miss Larkins looked wildly at her, and stood
silent for a while, and, at last, shrieked out, "BENJAMIN!" in a tone of
extreme agony, and dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin looked
extremely red, it must be confessed, at being thus called by what
we shall denominate his Christian name, and Limpiter looked round at
Guzzard, and Miss Brunck nudged Miss Horsman, and the lesson concluded
rather abruptly that day; for Miss Larkins was carried off to the next
room, laid on a couch, and sprinkled with water.

Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother should take Miss Larkins
to Bell Yard in her carriage, and went herself home on foot; but I don't
know that this piece of kindness prevented Larkins from hating her. I
should doubt if it did.

Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the astute Captain
Walker determined to take advantage of it for the purpose of increasing
his "connection." He had Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, which
was, indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum would go anywhere for a
good dinner--and an opportunity to show off his voice afterwards,
and Lumley was begged to bring any more clerks in the Treasury of his
acquaintance; Captain Guzzard was invited, and any officers of the
Guards whom he might choose to bring; Bulger received occasional
cards:--in a word, and after a short time, Mrs. Howard Walker's
musical parties began to be considerably suivies. Her husband had the
satisfaction to see his rooms filled by many great personages; and once
or twice in return (indeed, whenever she was wanted, or when people
could not afford to hire the first singers) she was asked to parties
elsewhere, and treated with that killing civility which our English
aristocracy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever and