was an
admirable personification of Dick Turpin, standing upwards of six feet,
and broadly built; and becoming his picturesque costume as if it were
his everyday suit, he strutted before Mrs Jenkins's best glass, which
Hanmer charitably gave up for his accommodation, with a pardonable
vanity. Dawson had got a lancer's uniform from his London tailor; but
how to get into it was a puzzle; it was delightful to see his attempts
to unravel the gorgeous mysteries which were occupying every available
spot in his dingy bedroom. The shako was the main stumbling-block.
Being unfortunately rather small, it was no easy matter to keep it on
his head at all; and how to dispose of the cap-lines was beyond our
united wisdom. "Go without it, man," said Branling: "people don't want
hats in a ball-room. You can never dance with that thing on your head."

"Oh, but the head-dress is always worn at a fancy-ball, you know, and I
can take it off if I like to dance."

At last the idea struck us of employing the five or six yards of
gold cord that had so puzzled us, in securing shako and plume in a
perpendicular position. This at length accomplished, by dint of keeping
himself scrupulously upright, Mr Sydney Dawson majestically walked down
stairs.

CHAPTER III.

Now, there happened to be at that time residing in Glyndewi an old lady,
"of the name and cousinage" of Phillips, who, though an old maid, was
one of those unhappily rare individuals who do not think it necessary to
rail against those amusements which they are no longer in a situation to
enjoy. She was neither as young, nor as rich, nor as light-hearted, as
she had been; but it was difficult to imagine that she could ever have
been more truly cheerful and happy than she seemed now. So, instead
of cutting short every sally of youthful spirits, and every dream of
youthful happiness, by sagacious hints of cares and troubles to come,
she rather lent her aid to further every innocent enjoyment among her
younger friends; feeling, as she said, that the only pity was that young
hearts grew old so soon. The consequence was, that, instead of exacting
a forced deference from her many nephews and nieces (so are first
cousins' children called in Wales), she was really loved and esteemed
by them all; and while she never wished to deprive them of an hour's
enjoyment, they would willingly give up a pleasant party at any time to
spend an evening with the old lady, and enliven her solitude with the