nnovations
in the order of dinner, that produced most ludicrous scenes of
discomfiture,--now insisting on the use of a fork, now of a spoon, under
circumstances where no adroitness could compensate for the implement;
and one day I actually went so far as to introduce soap with the
finger-glasses, averring that "it was always done at Devonshire House on
grand occasions." I thought I should have betrayed myself as I saw the
efforts of the party to perform their parts with suitable dignity; all I
could do was to restrain a burst of open laughter.

So long as I prosecuted my reforms on the actual staff of the
establishment, all went well. Now and then, it is true, I used to
overhear in French, of which they believed me to be ignorant, rather
sharp comments on the "free-and-easy tone of my manners; how careless I
had become," and so on,--complaints, however, sure to be be met by some
assurance that "my manners were quite London;" that what I did was the
type of fashionable servitude,--apologies made less to screen me than to
exalt those who invented them, as thoroughly conversant with high life
in England.

At last, partly from being careless of consequences, for I was getting
very weary of this kind of life,--the great amusement of which used to
be repeating my performances for the ear of Captain Pike, and he was
now removed with his regiment to Kingstown,--and partly wishing for some
incidents, of what kind I cared not, that might break the monotony of my
existence, I contrived one day to stretch my prerogative too far, or,
in the phrase of the Gulf, I "harpooned a bottle-nose,"--the periphrasis
for making a gross mistake.

I had been some years at Mrs. Davis's,--in fact, I felt and thought
myself a man,--when the last ball of the season was announced,--an
entertainment at which usually a more crowded assemblage used to
congregate than at any of the previous ones.

It was the choice occasion for the _habitues_ of the house to invite
their grand friends; for Mrs. D. was accustomed to put forth all her
strength, and the arrangements were made on a scale of magnificence that
invariably occasioned a petty famine for the fortnight beforehand. Soup
never appeared, that there might be "bouillon" for the dancers; every
one was on a short allowance of milk, eggs, and sugar; meat became
almost a tradition; even candles waned and went out, in waiting for
the auspicious night when they should blaze like noonday. Nor did
the compa