lodging. "I'll pack my portmanteau (the
contents of which were scattered about in the drawers, on the tables,
and on the chairs)--that will be so much gained on the enemy," thought
I; but on looking at my watch, I found I had barely time to dress for
dinner; the Norrington's, with whom I was engaged, being punctual
people. "No matter; I'll pack it to-night." 'Twas well I came to
that determination; for the instant I entered the drawing-room, Mrs.
Norrington rang the bell, and just said to the servant who appeared at
its summons--"Dinner:" a dissyllable which, when so uttered, timed, and
accompanied, is a polite hint that the dinner has not been improved by
your late arrival.

My story, however, had arrived there before me; and I must do my friends
the justice to say, that all that kindness could do for me, under the
circumstances, was done. Two or three times, indeed, Mark looked at me
full in the face, and laughed outright, without any apparent cause for
such a manifestation of mirth; and once when, after a few glasses of
wine, I had almost ceased to think of the fate that awaited me, Miss
Adelaide suddenly inquired, "Do you _really_ start at five?--isn't
that rather early?"--"_Rather_," replied I, with all the composure
I could assume. But for a smile, and a sly look at her papa, I might
have attributed the distressing question to thoughtlessness, rather than
a deliberate desire to inflict pain. To parody a well-known line, I may
say that, upon the whole--

"To me this Twelfth-night was no night of mirth."

Before twelve o'clock, I left a pleasant circle, revelling in all the
delights of Twelfth-cake, pam-loo, king-and-queen, and forfeits, to pack
my portmanteau,

"And inly ruminate the morning's danger!"

The individual who, at this time, so ably filled the important office
of "Boots," at the hotel, was a character. Be it remembered that, in
his youth, he had been discharged from his place for omitting to call
a gentleman, who was to go by one of the morning coaches, and who,
thereby, missed his journey. This misfortune made a lasting impression
on the intelligent mind of Mr. Boots.

"Boots," said I in a mournful tone, "you must call me at four o'clock."

"Do'ee want to get up, zur?" inquired he, with a broad Somersetshire
twang.

"_Want_ indeed! no; but I must."

"Well, zur, I'll _carl_ 'ee; but will 'ee get up when I _do_
carl?"

"Why, to be sure I will."

"That be all very well to zay over-