IN AND MRS. CAT RECOGNISE EACH OTHER IN
MARYLEBONE GARDENS--AND HOW THE COUNT DRIVES HER HOME IN HIS CARRIAGE.

About a month after the touching conversation above related, there was
given, at Marylebone Gardens, a grand concert and entertainment, at
which the celebrated Madame Amenaide, a dancer of the theatre at Paris,
was to perform, under the patronage of several English and foreign
noblemen; among whom was his Excellency the Bavarian Envoy. Madame
Amenaide was, in fact, no other than the maitresse en titre of the
Monsieur de Galgenstein, who had her a great bargain from the Duke de
Rohan-Chabot at Paris.

It is not our purpose to make a great and learned display here,
otherwise the costumes of the company assembled at this fete might
afford scope for at least half-a-dozen pages of fine writing; and we
might give, if need were, specimens of the very songs and music sung on
the occasion. Does not the Burney collection of music, at the British
Museum, afford one an ample store of songs from which to choose?
Are there not the memoirs of Colley Cibber? those of Mrs. Clark, the
daughter of Colley? Is there not Congreve, and Farquhar--nay, and at a
pinch, the "Dramatic Biography," or even the Spectator, from which the
observant genius might borrow passages, and construct pretty antiquarian
figments? Leave we these trifles to meaner souls! Our business is not
with the breeches and periwigs, with the hoops and patches, but with the
divine hearts of men, and the passions which agitate them. What need,
therefore, have we to say that on this evening, after the dancing, the
music, and the fireworks, Monsieur de Galgenstein felt the strange and
welcome pangs of appetite, and was picking a cold chicken, along with
some other friends in an arbour--a cold chicken, with an accompaniment
of a bottle of champagne--when he was led to remark that a very handsome
plump little person, in a gorgeous stiff damask gown and petticoat, was
sauntering up and down the walk running opposite his supping-place, and
bestowing continual glances towards his Excellency. The lady, whoever
she was, was in a mask, such as ladies of high and low fashion wore at
public places in those days, and had a male companion. He was a lad of
only seventeen, marvellously well dressed--indeed, no other than the
Count's own son, Mr. Thomas Billings; who had at length received from
his mother the silver-hilted sword, and the wig, which that affectionate
parent had pro