an arrangement with him, and with King of Corpus (who was staying
at the Colonnade), and Martin of Trinity Hall (who was with his family
in Bloomsbury Square), to dine at the Piazza, go to the play and see
Braham in Fra Diavolo, and end the frolic evening by partaking of supper
and a song at the "Cave of Harmony."--It was in the days of my own
youth, then, that I met one or two of the characters who are to figure
in this history, and whom I must ask leave to accompany for a short
while, and until, familiarised with the public, they can make their own
way. As I recall them the roses bloom again, and the nightingales sing
by the calm Bendemeer.

Going to the play, then, and to the pit, as was the fashion in those
honest days, with some young fellows of my own age, having listened
delighted to the most cheerful and brilliant of operas, and laughed
enthusiastically at the farce, we became naturally hungry at twelve
o'clock at night, and a desire for welsh-rabbits and good old
glee-singing led us to the "Cave of Harmony," then kept by the
celebrated Hoskins, among whose friends we were proud to count.

We enjoyed such intimacy with Mr. Hoskins that he never failed to
greet us with a kind nod; and John the waiter made room for us near
the President of the convivial meeting. We knew the three admirable
glee-singers, and many a time they partook of brandy-and-water at our
expense. One of us gave his call dinner at Hoskins's, and a merry time
we had of it. Where are you, O Hoskins, bird of the night? Do you warble
your songs by Acheron, or troll your choruses by the banks of black
Avernus?

The goes of stout, the "Chough and Crow," the welsh-rabbit, the
"Red-Cross Knight," the hot brandy-and-water (the brown, the strong!),
the "Bloom is on the Rye" (the bloom isn't on the rye any more!)--the
song and the cup, in a word, passed round merrily; and, I daresay, the
songs and bumpers were encored. It happened that there was a very small
attendance at the "Cave" that night, and we were all more sociable and
friendly because the company was select. The songs were chiefly of the
sentimental class; such ditties were much in vogue at the time of which
I speak.

There came into the "Cave" a gentleman with a lean brown face and
long black mustachios, dressed in very loose clothes, and evidently a
stranger to the place. At least he had not visited it for a long time.
He was pointing out changes to a lad who was in his company; and,
call