ble
being by this time in high chat, and the chairs a little irregular,
Puddock slipped off his, and addressing himself to Devereux and
O'Flaherty--just to give them a notion of Mrs. Cibber--began, with a
countenance the most wobegone, and in a piping falsetto--

'When I am laid low, i' the grave, and quite forgotten.'

Monimia dies at the end of the speech--as the reader may not be aware;
but when Puddock came to the line--

'When I am dead, as presently I shall be,'

all Mrs. Cibber's best points being still to come, the little
lieutenant's heel caught in the edge of the carpet, as he sailed with an
imaginary hoop on grandly backward, and in spite of a surprising
flick-flack cut in the attempt to recover his equipoise, down came the
'orphan,' together with a table-load of spoons and plates, with a crash
that stopt all conversation.

Lord Castlemallard waked up, with a snort and a 'hollo, gentlemen!'

'It's only poor dear Monimia, general,' said Devereux with a melancholy
bow, in reply to a fiery and startled stare darted to the point by that
gallant officer.

'Hey--eh?' said his lordship, brightening up, and gazing glassily round
with a wan smile; and I fancy he thought a lady had somehow introduced
herself during his nap, and was pleased, for he admired the sex.

'If there's any recitation going on, I think it had better be for the
benefit of the company,' said the general, a little surly, and looking
full upon the plump Monimia, who was arranging his frill and hair, and
getting a little awkwardly into his place.

'And I think 'twould be no harm, Lieutenant Puddock, my dear,' says
Father Roach, testily, for he had been himself frightened by the crash,
'if you'd die a little aisier the next time.'

Puddock began to apologise.

'Never mind,' said the general, recovering, 'let's fill our glasses--my
Lord Castlemallard, they tell me this claret is a pretty wine.'

'A very pretty wine,' said my lord.

'And suppose, my lord, we ask these gentlemen to give us a song? I say,
gentlemen, there are fine voices among you. Will some gentleman oblige
the company with a song?'

'Mr. Loftus sings a very fine song, I'm told,' said Captain Cluffe, with
a wink at Father Roach.

'Ay,' cried Roach, backing up the joke (a good old one, and not yet
quite off the hooks), 'Mr. Loftus sings, I'll take my davy--I've heard
him!'

Loftus was shy, simple, and grotesque, and looked like a man who could
not sing a not