rabismus, and the latter bears a considerably stronger resemblance to
a pump-handle than it does to the classic profile of John Kemble or any of
his family.

"Lieutenant Gahagan," said I, solemnly, "do you remember how, some six
years ago at Hydrabad, when yet beardless and whiskerless, the only hair
upon my face being eyebrows and eyelashes, at your instigation and
'suadente diabolo,' I attempted to perform Lydia Languish in 'The Rivals?'
and hast thou yet forgotten, O son of an unsainted father, how my
grenadier stride, the fixed tea-pot position of my arms, to say nothing of
the numerous other solecisms in the code of female manners which I
perpetrated on that occasion, made me a laughing-stock and a by-word for
many a long day afterwards! All this, I say, must be fresh in your
recollection, and yet you have the audacity to ask me to expose myself
again in a similar manner."

"Pooh, pooh!" laughed Gahagan, "you were only a boy then, now you have
more experience in these matters; besides, Lydia Languish was a part quite
unworthy of your powers; Lady Macbeth is a horse of another colour."

"Why, man, with what face could I aver that

'I have given suck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me.'

That would certainly draw tears from the audience, but they would be tears
of laughter, not sympathy, I warrant you. No, no, good master Fred, it
won't do, I tell you; and in the words of Lady Macbeth herself, I say--

'What beast was't, then,
That made you break this enterprise to me?'

And now oblige me by walking your body off, for I have got my yesterday's
guard report to fill up and send in, in default of which I shall be sure
to catch an 'official' from the Brigade-Major."

But Fred not only did not walk his body off, but harping on the same
string, pertinaciously continued to ply me with alternate arguments and
intreaties, until at last fairly wearied out, and more, I believe, with
the hope of getting rid of the "importunate chink" of the fellow's
discourse, than anything else, in an evil moment I consented! hear it not,
shade of Mrs. Siddons! to denude myself of the bushy honours of my cheeks,
and tread the boards of the Bangalore stage as the wife of that atrocious
usurper "King Cawdor Glamis!"

Fred marched himself away, elated at having carried his point; and I,
after sundry dubious misgivings anent the rash promise I had made, ended
by casting all compunctious visitings to the winds