a great deal of, for it gained its author a
vast infantine practice:--so, when the M.D. rose, the "Pott"
trembled--feeling greatly relieved to find the doctor only did so to
propose the "ladies"--"health and long life to Mrs. Brown and the
ladies!"--a toast that was drunk with great enthusiasm, Mr. Lark
vociferously applauding; at the same time stating, in an under
tone--"the doctor meant a long life of ills and bills." Dr. Portbin's
sentiment is echoed by Mr. Brown, who returns thanks in a
stereotype-speech, almost as original as a royal one; to which, in
some points, it bore slight resemblance, the ideas being very much
generalized--there was an "alliance with foreign powers," "acquisition
of territory," and "friendly relations:"--altogether a prosperous
allegory, which causes Captain de Camp to be "called upon;" and, in that
style of speech usually denominated "neat," give very visible vent to
his inexpressible feelings--sketching several scenes, commencing at
Victoria Villa and ending at St. Stephen's,--with a verse, intended to
look as if composed for the nonce; but, in reality, a work of much
study:--it was delivered with great emphasis--a composition for which we
had to blush, though, as faithful chroniclers, feel bound to insert--it
ran as follows:--

"Victoria and Albert's big
With city's wealth and soldier's glory:
To Army, Queen, and Country swig:
Improve, my friends, and prove the Tory!"

We do not think the Captain quite liked the word "swig," but he could
find no better in "Walker's Rhyming Dictionary;" or the last
expression--but _Conservative_ could not be lugged in any how:--however,
we must say, this ostensible improvisatorial effort produced a grand
effect, and a greater noise; which had scarcely subsided, when Mr.
Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury, and author of
"Lays of a Liberal," rose to retort, saying,--

"We beg to doubt your precious rig,
And I'll tell you another story:
To _improve_ is to be a _whig_;
But not to _improve-is-a-tory_!"

[Illustration]

The effect of this latter burst of poetic fire was truly electric; it
completely extinguished the Captain's impromptu glimmer, lighting up
that gallant bosom with a passion of another kind--he feels miserably
"put out;"--and, like a dying rush-light in its last moments, seemed
determined to end with a spark of unusual brightness. The Captain stood
erect, awaiting his opportunity; but, alas!