to adopt Celebrities, if the Celebrities
pay respect to the Proprieties. Dr. Fenwick is requested to procure Mr.
Margrave the advantage of being known to the Hill."

I found it somewhat difficult to persuade Margrave to accept the Hill's
condescending overture. He seemed to have a dislike to all societies
pretending to aristocratic distinction,--a dislike expressed with a
fierceness so unwonted, that it made one suppose he had, at some time
or other, been subjected to mortification by the supercilious airs that
blow upon heights so elevated. However, he yielded to my instances, and
accompanied me one evening to Mrs. Poyntz's house. The Hill was encamped
there for the occasion. Mrs. Poyntz was exceedingly civil to him, and
after a few commonplace speeches, hearing that he was fond of music,
consigned him to the caressing care of Miss Brabazon, who was at
the head of the musical department in the Queen of the Hill's
administration.

Mrs. Poyntz retired to her favourite seat near the window, inviting me
to sit beside her; and while she knitted in silence, in silence my eye
glanced towards Margrave, in the midst of the group assembled round the
piano.

Whether he was in more than usually high spirits, or whether he was
actuated by a malign and impish desire to upset the established laws of
decorum by which the gayeties of the Hill were habitually subdued into
a serene and somewhat pensive pleasantness, I know not; but it was not
many minutes before the orderly aspect of the place was grotesquely
changed.

Miss Brabazon having come to the close of a complicated and dreary
sonata, I heard Margrave abruptly ask her if she could play the
Tarantella, that famous Neapolitan air which is founded on the legendary
belief that the bite of the tarantula excites an irresistible desire to
dance. On that highbred spinster's confession that she was ignorant of
the air, and had not even heard of the legend, Margrave said, "Let me
play it to you, with variations of my own." Miss Brabazon graciously
yielded her place at the instrument. Margrave seated himself,--there was
great curiosity to hear his performance. Margrave's fingers rushed over
the keys, and there was a general start, the prelude was so unlike any
known combination of harmonious sounds. Then he began a chant--song I
can scarcely call it--words certainly not in Italian, perhaps in some
uncivilized tongue, perhaps in impromptu gibberish. And the torture of
the instrument now