hing must be done to
entertain himself. He shuddered to think where and what he should have
been been, had not these gentlemen so providentially arrived. As for
again repeating the farce of last year, he felt that it would no longer
raise a smile. Yorkshire he shunned. Doncaster made him tremble. A
week with the Duke of Burlington at Marringworth; a fortnight with the
Fitz-pompeys at Malthorpe; a month with the Graftons at Cleve; and so
on: he shuddered at the very idea. Who can see a pantomime more than
once? Who could survive a pantomime the twentieth time? All the shifting
scenes, and flitting splendour; all the motley crowds of sparkling
characters; all the quick changes, and full variety, are, once,
enchantment. But when the splendour is discovered to be monotony; the
change, order, and the caprice a system; when the characters play ever
the same part, and the variety never varies; how dull, how weary, how
infinitely flat, is such a world to that man who requires from its
converse, not occasional relaxation, but constant excitement!

Pen Bronnock was a new object. At this moment in his life, novelty was
indeed a treasure. If he could cater for a month, no expense should be
grudged; as for the future, he thrust it from his mind. By taking up his
residence, too, at Pen Bronnock, he escaped from all invitations;
and so, in a word, the worthy Knight received orders to make all
preparations at the palace for the reception of a large party in the
course of three weeks.

Sir Carte, as usual, did wonders. There was, fortunately for his
employer, no time to build or paint, but some dingy rooms were hung with
scarlet cloth; cart-loads of new furniture were sent down; the theatre
was re-burnished; the stables put in order; and, what was of infinitely
more importance in the estimation of all Englishmen, the neglected pile
was 'well aired.'

CHAPTER II.

_A Dandy From Vienna_

WE ARE in the country, and such a country, that even in Italy we think
of thee, native Hesperia! Here, myrtles grow, and fear no blasting
north, or blighting east. Here, the south wind blows with that soft
breath which brings the bloom to flesh. Here, the land breaks in gentle
undulations; and here, blue waters kiss a verdant shore. Hail! to thy
thousand bays, and deep-red earth, thy marble quarries, and thy silver
veins! Hail! to thy far-extending landscape, whose sparkling villages
and streaky fields no clime can match!

Some gales we