ng, at the window, while Cluffe, who
was emitting a high note, with all the tenderness he could throw into
his robust countenance, and one of those involuntary distortions which
in amateurs will sometimes accompany a vocal effort, caught the eye of
the cynical wayfarer, and stopped short with a disconcerted little cough
and a shake of his chops, and a grim, rather red nod, and 'Good-morning,
Mr. Dangerfield.' Puddock also saluted, still thrumming a low chord or
two as he did so, for he was not ashamed, like his stout playmate, and
saw nothing incongruous in their early minstrelsy.

The fact is, these gallant officers were rehearsing a pretty little
entertainment they designed for the ladies at Belmont. It was a
serenade, in short, and they had been compelled to postpone it in
consequence of the broken weather; and though both gentlemen were, of
course, romantically devoted to their respective objects, yet there were
no two officers in his Majesty's service more bent upon making love with
a due regard to health and comfort than our friends Cluffe and Puddock.
Puddock, indeed, was disposed to conduct it in the true masquerading
spirit, leaving the ladies to guess at the authors of that concord of
sweet sounds with which the amorous air of night was to quiver round the
walls and groves of Belmont; and Cluffe, externally acquiescing, had yet
made up his mind, if a decent opportunity presented, to be detected and
made prisoner, and that the honest troubadours should sup on a hot
broil, and sip some of the absent general's curious Madeira at the feet
of their respective mistresses, with all the advantage which a situation
so romantic and so private would offer.

So 'tinkle, tinkle, twang, twang, THRUM!' went the industrious and
accomplished Puddock's guitar; and the voices of the enamoured swains
kept tolerable tune and time; and Puddock would say, 'Don't you think,
Captain Cluffe, 'twould perhapth go better if we weren't to try that
shake upon A. Do let's try the last two barth without it;' and 'I'm
thorry to trouble you, but jutht wonth more, if you pleathe--

'"But hard ith the chathe my thad heart mutht purthue,
While Daphne, thweet Daphne, thtill flieth from my view."'

Puddock, indeed, had strict notions about rehearsing, and, on occasions
like this, assumed managerial airs, and in a very courteous way took the
absolute command of Captain Cluffe, who sang till he was purple, and his
belts and braces cracked again