t described by De Quincey, when "midsummer with all its
banners was marching through the sky." A more gorgeous afternoon to
loiter away upon the water it was hard to imagine. Moored along the
side of the Westminster Pier was, if not the _Great Eastern_, at all
events as large a steamer as it was practicable to bring there.
Awnings were stretched both fore and aft above decks, the snowy
whiteness of which would have done no discredit to a man-of-war. In
the bows of the boat a band was pouring forth all sorts of popular
melody, inciting the fashionable crowd to "Haste to the Wedding," "Down
among the Coals," "When Johnny comes marching Home," &c. At the head
of the gangway the hosts received their guests, and the numbers in
which they trooped on board gave some warrant to Lionel Beauchamp's
laughing assertion that giving a party in London is something like the
making of a snowball: it increases with undreamt-of rapidity.

"Twenty-five guests apiece, Mrs. Wriothesley, was, I give you my word,
the first faint-hearted conception of myself and three companions,"
said Beauchamp, laughing, as he welcomed that lady and Miss Chipchase;
"but you see people have been kind to us, and that we are more popular
in society than we dared venture to hope."

"Ah, Lionel, yes," rejoined Mrs. Wriothesley, as she shook hands, "and
with so nice a ship, such glorious weather, and so many pleasant
_compagnons de voyage_ as I see around me, you will find us all willing
to dance to your pipe, even if it led us all the way to New York."

"We are too discreet to attempt the impossible," replied Lionel. "If
we can only please and amuse our guests to Gravesend and back, we shall
sleep contented." And then he turned away to welcome fresh arrivals,
leaving Sylla and Mrs. Wriothesley to greet their friends and inspect
the arrangements made for their entertainment.

And that these had been the result of much thought and preparation was
transparent even to the unreflecting. Like an elaborate piece of
clockwork, the whole affair was not as yet in motion. But a glance on
the foredeck of the steamer showed, mingling amongst the fashionable
crowd, Spanish singers with their guitars, Tyrolese joedelers, and some
two or three popular comedians, who at times consent to dispel the
dreariness of an evening party. Mr. Cottrell even whispered to Mrs.
Wriothesley that he should not be at all surprised if the thing was a
real success.

"They are young, ve