swered, "and you want every man to live
in a tub like yourself. Violets smell better than stale tobacco, you
grizzly old cynic." But Mr. Pen was blushing whilst he made this reply
to his unromantical friend, and indeed cared a great deal more about
himself still than such a philosopher perhaps should have done. Indeed,
considering that he was careless about the world, Mr. Pen ornamented his
person with no small pains in order to make himself agreeable to it, and
for a weary pilgrim as he was, wore very tight boots and bright varnish.

It was in this dull season of the year, then, of a shining Friday night
in autumn, that Mr. Pendennis, having completed at his newspaper office
a brilliant leading article--such as Captain Shandon himself might have
written, had the Captain been in good-humour, and inclined to work,
which he never would do except under compulsion--that Mr. Arthur
Pendennis having written his article, and reviewed it approvingly as
it lay before him in its wet proof-sheet at the office of the paper,
bethought him that he would cross the water, and regale himself with
the fireworks and other amusements of Vauxhall. So he affably put in his
pocket the order which admitted "Editor of Pall Mall Gazette and friend"
to that place of recreation, and paid with the coin of the realm a
sufficient sum to enable him to cross Waterloo Bridge. The walk thence
to the Gardens was pleasant, the stars were shining in the skies above,
looking down upon the royal property, whence the rockets and Roman
candles had not yet ascended to outshine the stars.

Before you enter the enchanted ground, where twenty thousand additional
lamps are burned every night as usual, most of us have passed through
the black and dreary passage and wickets which hide the splendours of
Vauxhall from uninitiated men. In the walls of this passage are two
holes strongly illuminated, in the midst of which you see two
gentlemen at desks, where they will take either your money as a private
individual, or your order of admission if you are provided with
that passport to the Gardens. Pen went to exhibit his ticket at the
last-named orifice, where, however, a gentleman and two ladies were
already in parley before him.

The gentleman, whose hat was very much on one side, and who wore a short
and shabby cloak in an excessively smart manner, was crying out in a
voice which Pen at once recognised.

"Bedad, sir, if ye doubt me honour, will ye obleege me by stipp