remained below."

"Miss Tavistock will you allow me to send you some mutton?"

"If you please, colonel; a very small slice."

"Mr Forster, what have you in that dish before you?"

"A chicken, Captain Drawlock."

"Miss Isabel Revel, will you take some chicken?"

"No, I thank you, Captain Drawlock," replied Isabel.

"Did you say yes or no?" inquired Newton, who had caught her eye.

"I'll change my mind," said Isabel, smiling.

Now, I know it for a fact, although I shall not give up my authority,
that Isabel Revel never wanted any chicken until she perceiveth that
Newton was to help her. So, if Love occasionally takes away the
appetite, let us do him justice--he sometimes creates one.

"Miss Tavistock, allow me to send you a little of this Turkey," said Dr
Plausible; "it is easy of digestion."

"If you please, doctor," replied Miss Tavistock, cramming the last
mouthful of mutton into her mouth, and sending away her plate to be
changed.

"Will you not take a little ham with it, Miss Tavistock?" said Captain
Drawlock.

"If you please, sir."

"The honour of a glass of wine, Miss Tavistock," said the colonel.

"With pleasure, sir."

"Miss Charlotte Revel, you have really eaten nothing," said Captain
Drawlock.

"That proves you have not paid me the least attention," replied the
young lady. "Had you honoured me with a single glance during dinner,
you could not but have observed that I have been dining very heartily."

"I really am quite shocked, Miss Charlotte, and bow to your reproof.
Will you take a glass of wine with me in reconciliation?"

"I consider a glass of Madeira a very poor bribe, sir."

"Well, then, Miss Charlotte, it shall be champagne," replied Captain
Drawlock, in his gallantry. "Steward, champagne." A fortunate hit for
the company, as champagne was in general only produced upon what sailors
call `clean shirt days,' viz. Sundays and Thursdays.

"We are highly indebted to Miss Revel," observed the colonel, bowing to
her; "and I think we ought to drink her health in a bumper."

Agreed to, _nem con_.

Champagne, thou darling of my heart! To stupefy oneself with other
wines, is brutal; but to raise oneself to the seventh heaven with thee,
is quite ethereal. The soul appears to spurn the body, and take a
transient flight without its dull associate--the--the--broke down, by
Jupiter! All I meant to say was, that champagne is very pretty
_tipple_; and so thought the dinner party, who