ghty or a
hundred guests knocking little pewter measures on the tables, and
hammering away, with the handles of their knives, as if they were so many
trunk-makers. They are applauding a glee, which has just been executed
by the three 'professional gentlemen' at the top of the centre table, one
of whom is in the chair--the little pompous man with the bald head just
emerging from the collar of his green coat. The others are seated on
either side of him--the stout man with the small voice, and the
thin-faced dark man in black. The little man in the chair is a most
amusing personage,--such condescending grandeur, and _such_ a voice!

'Bass!' as the young gentleman near us with the blue stock forcibly
remarks to his companion, 'bass! I b'lieve you; he can go down lower
than any man: so low sometimes that you can't hear him.' And so he does.
To hear him growling away, gradually lower and lower down, till he can't
get back again, is the most delightful thing in the world, and it is
quite impossible to witness unmoved the impressive solemnity with which
he pours forth his soul in 'My 'art's in the 'ighlands,' or 'The brave
old Hoak.' The stout man is also addicted to sentimentality, and warbles
'Fly, fly from the world, my Bessy, with me,' or some such song, with
lady-like sweetness, and in the most seductive tones imaginable.

'Pray give your orders, gen'l'm'n--pray give your orders,'--says the
pale-faced man with the red head; and demands for 'goes' of gin and
'goes' of brandy, and pints of stout, and cigars of peculiar mildness,
are vociferously made from all parts of the room. The 'professional
gentlemen' are in the very height of their glory, and bestow
condescending nods, or even a word or two of recognition, on the
better-known frequenters of the room, in the most bland and patronising
manner possible.

The little round-faced man, with the small brown surtout, white stockings
and shoes, is in the comic line; the mixed air of self-denial, and mental
consciousness of his own powers, with which he acknowledges the call of
the chair, is particularly gratifying. 'Gen'l'men,' says the little
pompous man, accompanying the word with a knock of the president's hammer
on the table--'Gen'l'men, allow me to claim your attention--our friend,
Mr. Smuggins, will oblige.'--'Bravo!' shout the company; and Smuggins,
after a considerable quantity of coughing by way of symphony, and a most
facetious sniff or two, which afford gene