harles Honeyman, A.M.
May we listen to many more of his sermons, as well as to that admirable
discourse with which I am sure he is about to electrify us now. May we
profit by his eloquence; and cherish in our memories the truths which
come mended from his tongue!" He ceased; poor Honeyman had to rise on
his legs, and gasp out a few incoherent remarks in reply. Without a book
before him, the Incumbent of Lady Whittlesea's Chapel was no prophet,
and the truth is he made poor work of his oration.

At the end of it, he, Sir Brian, Colonel Dobbin, and one of the Indian
gentlemen quitted the room, in spite of the loud outcries of our
generous host, who insisted that the party should not break up. "Close
up, gentlemen," called out honest Newcome, "we are not going to part
just yet. Let me fill your glass, General. You used to have no objection
to a glass of wine." And he poured out a bumper for his friend, which
the old campaigner sucked in with fitting gusto. "Who will give us a
song? Binnie, give us the 'Laird of Cockpen.' It's capital, my dear
General. Capital," the Colonel whispered to his neighbour.

Mr. Binnie struck up the "Laird of Cockpen," without, I am bound to say,
the least reluctance. He bobbed to one man, and he winked to another,
and he tossed his glass, and gave all the points of his song in a
manner which did credit to his simplicity and his humour. You haughty
Southerners little know how a jolly Scotch gentleman can desipere in
loco, and how he chirrups over his honest cups. I do not say whether it
was with the song or with Mr. Binnie that we were most amused. It was
a good commonty, as Christopher Sly says; nor were we sorry when it was
done.

Him the first mate succeeded; after which came a song from the redoubted
F. Bayham, which he sang with a bass voice which Lablache might envy,
and of which the chorus was frantically sung by the whole company. The
cry was then for the Colonel; on which Barnes Newcome, who had been
drinking much, started up with something like an oath, crying, "Oh, I
can't stand this."

"Then leave it, confound you!" said young Clive, with fury in his face.
"If our company is not good for you, why do you come into it?"

"What's that?" asks Barnes, who was evidently affected by wine. Bayham
roared "Silence!" and Barnes Newcome, looking round with a tipsy toss of
the head, finally sate down.

The Colonel sang, as we have said, with a very high voice, using freely
the falsetto, aft