nce of animal spirits often leads him away. [Happy
Thought.--Wish they'd take him away altogether.] He says he thinks it's
owing to the bracing air; adding, that I take a joke so well, he is sure
I shan't be angry. I tell him that I don't speak _on my own account_,
but for the sake of others. He promises he will be quiet and serious.

At night he keeps his word by coming down dressed like the proverbial
methodist Mawworm. An enormous white tie, doubled. His hair combed sadly
straight. A high black waistcoat, his trousers shortened, white
stockings and shoes.

They encourage him by laughing. He addresses everyone as "My Christian
Brother," or "Sister," and informs them that the Head of the
Establishment has requested him to be serious.

He insists upon a serious evening, and tells us that Mr. Jenkyns Soames
has consented to give a Chemical Lecture "with," he adds impressively,
"experiments."

It appears that Layder and Milburd have undertaken to assist the
Professor.

After dinner, Layder announces that he has an entertainment to commence
with. He takes me on one side. We go into the library, which he has
prepared as a sort of dressing-room.

_Happy Thought._--Humour him, and then he'll play practical jokes on
somebody else--not me.

He says, "Look here, you and I will dress up, and be the lecturer's
servants." Very harmless and funny, seeing that the dresses (which he
has brought with him) are a mantle spangled, two or three pairs of
tights and Cavalier boots, and a cocked hat. He says he's got a charade,
and Milburd will dress up too, and we'll have it before the Lecture.

He offers to do my face for me; and does it at once with burnt cork, red
and white.

Then he goes to dress.

I am alone. It is a good idea enlisting under, as it were, his banner,
then he won't annoy _me_. The fire's out here, and changing my dress at
this time has made me cold.

_Meditations by myself when in a costume something between a naval
officer, a Spanish grandee, and Richard the Third._--What _can_ be the
fun of dressing up? It is so much more comfortable in your own things.
And a charade's a bore. At least, it bores the audience, I'm sure. And
if there are people acting who say all sorts of nonsense, and do
anything, there's no art in it... Nine o'clock. I wish he'd brought a
longer candle, and would be quicker in dressing. He's gone to his own
room, perhaps, to dress, or is arranging the performance........ It's a
melanchol