lapham.

The young Duke, however, was ambitious of making a good book; and, with
all the calm impetuosity which characterises a youthful Hauteville,
determined to have a crack stud at once. So at Ascot, where he spent
a few pleasant hours, dined at the Cottage, was caught in a shower, in
return caught a cold, a slight influenza for a week, and all the world
full of inquiries and anxiety; at Ascot, I say, he bought up all the
winning horses at an average of three thousand guineas for each pair of
ears. Sir Lucius stared, remonstrated, and, as his remonstrances were in
vain, assisted him.

As people at the point of death often make a desperate rally, so
this, the most brilliant of seasons, was even more lively as it nearer
approached its end. The _dejeuner_ and the _villa fete_ the water party
and the rambling ride, followed each other with the bright rapidity of
the final scenes in a pantomime. Each _dama_ seemed only inspired with
the ambition of giving the last ball; and so numerous were the parties
that the town really sometimes seemed illuminated. To breakfast at
Twickenham, and to dine in Belgrave Square; to hear,' or rather to
honour, half an act of an opera; to campaign through half a dozen
private balls, and to finish with a romp at the rooms, as after our wine
we take a glass of liqueur; all this surely required the courage of
an Alexander and the strength of a Hercules, and, indeed, cannot be
achieved without the miraculous powers of a Joshua. So thought the young
Duke, as with an excited mind and a whirling head he threw himself at
half-past six o'clock on a couch which brought him no sleep.

Yet he recovered, and with the aid of the bath, the soda, and the
coffee, and all the thousand remedies which a skilful valet has ever at
hand, at three o'clock on the same day he rose and dressed, and in an
hour was again at the illustrious bow-window, sneering with Charles
Annesley, or laughing downright with Lord Squib.

The Duke of St. James gave a water party, and the astounded Thames
swelled with pride as his broad breast bore on the ducal barges. St.
Maurice, who was in the Guards, secured his band; and Lord Squib, who,
though it was July, brought a furred great coat, secured himself. Lady
Afy looked like Amphitrite, and Lady Caroline looked in love. They
wandered in gardens like Calypso's; they rambled over a villa which
reminded them of Baise; they partook of a banquet which should have been
described by Ario