At the appointed hour, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, escorted



by Dowler, repaired to the Assembly Rooms, and wrote their



names down in the book―an instance of condescension at which



Angelo Bantam was even more overpowered than before. Tickets



of admission to that evening's assembly were to have been



prepared for the whole party, but as they were not ready, Mr.



Pickwick undertook, despite all the protestations to the contrary of



Angelo Bantam, to send Sam for them at four o'clock in the



afternoon, to the M.C.'s house in Queen Square. Having taken a



short walk through the city, and arrived at the unanimous



conclusion that Park Street was very much like the perpendicular



streets a man sees in a dream, which he cannot get up for the life



of him, they returned to the White Hart, and despatched Sam on



the errand to which his master had pledged him.



Sam Weller put on his hat in a very easy and graceful manner,



and, thrusting his hands in his waistcoat pockets, walked with



great deliberation to Queen Square, whistling as he went along,



several of the most popular airs of the day, as arranged with



entirely new movements for that noble instrument the organ,



either mouth or barrel. Arriving at the number in Queen Square to



which he had been directed, he left off whistling and gave a



cheerful knock, which was instantaneously answered by a



powdered-headed footman in gorgeouslivery, and of symmetrical



stature.



'Is this here Mr. Bantam's, old feller?' inquired Sam Weller,



nothing abashed by the blaze of splendour which burst upon his



sight in the person of the powdered-headed footman with the



gorgeouslivery.



'Why, young man?' was the haughty inquiry of the powdered-



headed footman.



''Cos if it is, jist you step in to him with that 'ere card, and say



Mr. Veller's a-waitin', will you?' said Sam. And saying it, he very



coolly walked into the hall, and sat down.



The powdered-headed footman slammed the door very hard,



and scowled very grandly; but both the slam and the scowl were



lost upon Sam, who was regarding a mahogany umbrella-stand



with every outward token of criticalapproval.



Apparently his master's reception of the card had impressed



the powdered-headed footman in Sam's favour, for when he came



back from delivering it, he smiled in a friendly manner, and said



that the answer would be ready directly.



'Wery good,' said Sam. 'Tell the old gen'l'm'n not to put himself



in a perspiration. No hurry, six-foot. I've had my dinner.'



'You dine early, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman.



'I find I gets on better at supper when I does,' replied Sam.



'Have you been long in Bath, sir?' inquired the powdered-



headed footman. 'I have not had the pleasure of hearing of you



before.'



'I haven't created any wery surprisin' sensation here, as yet,'



rejoined Sam, 'for me and the other fash'nables only come last



night.'



'Nice place, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman.



'Seems so,' observed Sam.



'Pleasant society, sir,' remarked the powdered-headed footman.



'Very agreeable servants, sir.'



'I should think they wos,' replied Sam. 'Affable, unaffected, say-



nothin'-to-nobody sorts o' fellers.'



'Oh, very much so, indeed, sir,' said the powdered-headed



footman, taking Sam's remarks as a high compliment. 'Very much



so indeed. Do you do anything in this way, sir?' inquired the tall



footman, producing a small snuff-box with a fox's head on the top



of it.



'Not without sneezing,' replied Sam.



'Why, it is difficult, sir, I confess,' said the tall footman. 'It may



be done by degrees, sir. Coffee is the best practice. I carried coffee,



sir, for a long time. It looks very like rappee, sir.'



Here, a sharp peal at the bell reduced the powdered-headed



footman to the ignominious necessity of putting the fox's head in



his pocket, and hastening with a humble countenance to Mr.



Bantam's 'study.' By the bye, who ever knew a man who never



read or wrote either, who hadn't got some small back parlour



which he would call a study!



'There is the answer, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman.



'I'm afraid you'll find it inconveniently large.'



'Don't mention it,' said Sam, taking a letter with a small



enclosure. 'It's just possible as exhausted natur' may manage to



surwive it.'



'I hope we shall meet again, sir,' said the powdered-headed



footman, rubbing his hands, and following Sam out to the door-



step.



'You are wery obligin', sir,' replied Sam. 'Now, don't allow



yourself to be fatigued beyond your powers; there's a amiable



bein'. Consider what you owe to society, and don't let yourself be



injured by too much work. For the sake o' your feller-creeturs,



keep yourself as quiet as you can; only think what a loss you would



be!' With these pathetic words, Sam Weller departed.



'A very singular young man that,' said the powdered-headed



footman, looking after Mr. Weller, with a countenance which



clearly showed he could make nothing of him.



Sam said nothing at all. He winked, shook his head, smiled,



winked again; and, with an expression of countenance which



seemed to denote that he was greatly amused with something or



other, walked merrily away.



At precisely twenty minutes before eight o'clock that night,



Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esq., the Master of the Ceremonies,



emerged from his chariot at the door of the Assembly Rooms in



the same wig, the same teeth, the same eye-glass, the same watch



and seals, the same rings, the same shirt-pin, and the same cane.



The only observable alterations in his appearance were, that he



wore a brighter blue coat, with a white silk lining, black tights,



black silk stockings, and pumps, and a white waistcoat, and was, if



possible, just a thought more scented.



Thus attired, the Master of the Ceremonies, in strict discharge



of the important duties of his all-important office, planted himself



in the room to receive the company.



Bath being full, the company, and the sixpences for tea, poured



in, in shoals. In the ballroom, the long card-room, the octagonal



card-room, the staircases, and the passages, the hum of many



voices, and the sound of many feet, were perfectly bewildering.



Dresses rustled, feathers waved, lights shone, and jewels sparkled.



There was the music―not of the quadrille band, for it had not yet



commenced; but the music of soft, tiny footsteps, with now and



then a clear, merry laugh―low and gentle, but very pleasant to



hear in a female voice, whether in Bath or elsewhere. Brilliant



eyes, lighted up with pleasurable expectation, gleamed from every



side; and, look where you would, some exquisite form glided



gracefully through the throng, and was no sooner lost, than it was



replaced by another as dainty and bewitching.



In the tea-room, and hovering round the card-tables, were a



vast number of queer old ladies, and decrepit old gentlemen,



discussing all the small talk and scandal of the day, with a relish



and gusto which sufficiently bespoke the intensity of the pleasure



they derived from the occupation. Mingled with these groups,



were three or four match-making mammas, appearing to be



wholly absorbed by the conversation in which they were taking



part, but failing not from time to time to cast an anxious sidelong



glance upon their daughters, who, remembering the maternal



injunction to make the best use of their youth, had already



commenced incipient flirtations in the mislaying scarves, putting



on gloves, setting down cups, and so forth; slight matters



apparently, but which may be turned to surprisingly good account



by expert practitioners.



Lounging near the doors, and in remote corners, were various



knots of silly young men, displaying various varieties of puppyism



and stupidity; amusing all sensible people near them with their



folly and conceit; and happily thinking themselves the objects of



general admiration―a wise and mercifuldispensation which no



good man will quarrel with.



And lastly, seated on some of the back benches, where they had



already taken up their positions for the evening, were divers



unmarried ladies past their grand climacteric, who, not dancing



because there were no partners for them, and not playing cards



lest they should be set down as irretrievably single, were in the



favourable situation of being able to abuse everybody without



reflecting on themselves. In short, they could abuse everybody,



because everybody was there. It was a scene of gaiety, glitter, and



show; of richly-dressed people, handsome mirrors, chalked floors,



girandoles and wax-candles; and in all parts of the scene, gliding



from spot to spot in silent softness, bowing obsequiously to this



party, nodding familiarly to that, and smiling complacently on all,



was the sprucely-attired person of Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire,



the Master of the Ceremonies.



'Stop in the tea-room. Take your sixpenn'orth. Then lay on hot



water, and call it tea. Drink it,' said Mr. Dowler, in a loud voice,



directing Mr. Pickwick, who advanced at the head of the little



party, with Mrs. Dowler on his arm. Into the tea-room Mr.



Pickwick turned; and catching sight of him, Mr. Bantam



corkscrewed his way through the crowd and welcomed him with



ecstasy.



'My dear sir, I am highly honoured. Ba-ath is favoured. Mrs.



Dowler, you embellish the rooms. I congratulate you on your



feathers. Re-markable!'



'Anybody here?' inquired Dowler suspiciously.



'Anybody! The élite of Ba-ath. Mr. Pickwick, do you see the old



lady in the gauze turban?'



'The fat old lady?' inquired Mr. Pickwick innocently.



'Hush, my dear sir―nobody's fat or old in Ba-ath. That's the



Dowager Lady Snuphanuph.'



'Is it, indeed?' said Mr. Pickwick.



'No less a person, I assure you,' said the Master of the



Ceremonies. 'Hush. Draw a little nearer, Mr. Pickwick. You see



the splendidly-dressed young man coming this way?'



'The one with the long hair, and the particularly small



forehead?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.



'The same. The richest young man in Ba-ath at this moment.



Young Lord Mutanhed.'



'You don't say so?' said Mr. Pickwick.



'Yes. You'll hear his voice in a moment, Mr. Pickwick. He'll



speak to me. The other gentleman with him, in the red under-



waistcoat and dark moustache, is the Honourable Mr. Crushton,



his bosom friend. How do you do, my Lord?'



'Veway hot, Bantam,' said his Lordship.



'It IS very warm, my Lord,' replied the M.C.



'Confounded,' assented the Honourable Mr. Crushton.



'Have you seen his Lordship's mail-cart, Bantam?' inquired the



Honourable Mr. Crushton, after a short pause, during which



young Lord Mutanhed had been endeavouring to stare Mr.



Pickwick out of countenance, and Mr. Crushton had been



reflecting what subject his Lordship could talk about best.



'Dear me, no,' replied the M.C. 'A mail-cart! What an excellent



idea. Re-markable!'



'Gwacious heavens!' said his Lordship, 'I thought evewebody



had seen the new mail-cart; it's the neatest, pwettiest, gwacefullest



thing that ever wan upon wheels. Painted wed, with a cweam



piebald.'



'With a real box for the letters, and all complete,' said the



Honourable Mr. Crushton.



'And a little seat in fwont, with an iwon wail, for the dwiver,'



added his Lordship. 'I dwove it over to Bwistol the other morning,



in a cwimson coat, with two servants widing a quarter of a mile



behind; and confound me if the people didn't wush out of their



cottages, and awest my pwogwess, to know if I wasn't the post.



Glorwious―glorwious!'



At this anecdote his Lordship laughed very heartily, as did the



listeners, of course. Then, drawing his arm through that of the



obsequious Mr. Crushton, Lord Mutanhed walked away.



'Delightful young man, his Lordship,' said the Master of the



Ceremonies.



'So I should think,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick drily.



The dancing having commenced, the necessary introductions



having been made, and all preliminaries arranged, Angelo Bantam



rejoined Mr. Pickwick, and led him into the card-room.



Just at the very moment of their entrance, the Dowager Lady



Snuphanuph and two other ladies of an ancient and whist-like



appearance, were hovering over an unoccupied card-table; and



they no sooner set eyes upon Mr. Pickwick under the convoy of



Angelo Bantam, than they exchanged glances with each other,



seeing that he was precisely the very person they wanted, to make



up the rubber.



'My dear Bantam,' said the Dowager Lady Snuphanuph



coaxingly, 'find us some nice creature to make up this table;



there's a good soul.' Mr. Pickwick happened to be looking another



way at the moment, so her Ladyship nodded her head towards



him, and frowned expressively.



'My friend Mr. Pickwick, my Lady, will be most happy, I am



sure, remarkably so,' said the M.C., taking the hint. 'Mr. Pickwick,



Lady Snuphanuph―Mrs. Colonel Wugsby―Miss Bolo.'



Mr. Pickwick bowed to each of the ladies, and, finding escape



impossible, cut. Mr. Pickwick and Miss Bolo against Lady



Snuphanuph and Mrs. Colonel Wugsby. As the trump card was



turned up, at the commencement of the second deal, two young



ladies hurried into the room, and took their stations on either side



of Mrs. Colonel Wugsby's chair, where they waited patiently until



the hand was over.



'Now, Jane,' said Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, turning to one of the



girls, 'what is it?'



'I came to ask, ma, whether I might dance with the youngest



Mr. Crawley,' whispered the prettier and younger of the two.



'Good God, Jane, how can you think of such things?' replied the



mamma indignantly. 'Haven't you repeatedly heard that his father



has eight hundred a year, which dies with him? I am ashamed of



you. Not on any account.'



'Ma,' whispered the other, who was much older than her sister,



and very insipid and artificial, 'Lord Mutanhed has been



introduced to me. I said I thought I wasn't engaged, ma.'



'You're a sweet pet, my love,' replied Mrs. Colonel Wugsby,



tapping her daughter's cheek with her fan, 'and are always to be



trusted. He's immensely rich, my dear. Bless you!' With these



words Mrs. Colonel Wugsby kissed her eldest daughter most



affectionately, and frowning in a warning manner upon the other,



sorted her cards.



Poor Mr. Pickwick! he had never played with three thorough-



paced female card-players before. They were so desperately sharp,



that they quite frightened him. If he played a wrong card, Miss



Bolo looked a small armoury of daggers; if he stopped to consider



which was the right one, Lady Snuphanuph would throw herself



back in her chair, and smile with a mingled glance of impatience



and pity to Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, at which Mrs. Colonel Wugsby



would shrug up her shoulders, and cough, as much as to say she



wondered whether he ever would begin. Then, at the end of every



hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance and



reproachful sigh, why Mr. Pickwick had not returned that



diamond, or led the club, or roughed the spade, or finessed the



heart, or led through the honour, or brought out the ace, or played



up to the king, or some such thing; and in reply to all these grave



charges, Mr. Pickwick would be wholly unable to plead any



justification whatever, having by this time forgotten all about the



game. People came and looked on, too, which made Mr. Pickwick



nervous. Besides all this, there was a great deal of distracting



conversation near the table, between Angelo Bantam and the two



Misses Matinter, who, being single and singular, paid great court



to the Master of the Ceremonies, in the hope of getting a stray



partner now and then. All these things, combined with the noises



and interruptions of constant comings in and goings out, made Mr.



Pickwick play rather badly; the cards were against him, also; and



when they left off at ten minutes past eleven, Miss Bolo rose from



the table considerably agitated, and went straight home, in a flood



of tears and a sedan-chair.



Being joined by his friends, who one and all protested that they



had scarcely ever spent a more pleasant evening, Mr. Pickwick



accompanied them to the White Hart, and having soothed his



feelings with something hot, went to bed, and to sleep, almost



simultaneously.

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