CHAPTER VI.

TREATS OF CHALK-AND-QUA-DRILL-OGY.

Entirely disgusted with his unsuccessful appeal to the enlightened British public assembled in the front of his residence, and which had produced effects so contrary to what he had conceived would be the result, Agamemnon called a committee of his household, to determine on the most advisable proceedings to be adopted for remedying the evils resulting from the unexpected pyrotechnic display of the morning. The carpet was spoiled—the house was impregnated with the sooty effluvia, and the company was expected to arrive at nine o’clock. What was to be done? Betty suggested the burning of brown paper and scrubbing the carpet; John, assafœtida and sawdust; Mrs. Waddledot, pastilles and chalking the floor. As the latter remedies seemed most compatible with the gentility of their expected visiters, immediate measures were taken for carrying them into effect. A dozen cheese-plates were disposed upon the stairs, each furnished with little pyramids of fragrance; old John, who was troubled with an asthma, was deputed to superintend them, and nearly coughed himself into a fit of apoplexy in the strenuous discharge of his duty.

Whilst these in-door remedial appliances were in progress, Agamemnon was hurrying about in a hack cab to discover a designer in chalk, and at length was fortunate enough to secure the “own artist” of the celebrated “Crown and Anchor.” Mr. Smear was a shrewd man, as well as an excellent artist; and when he perceived the very peculiar position of things, he forcibly enumerated all the difficulties which presented themselves, and which could only be surmounted by a large increase of remuneration.

“You see, sir,” said Mr. Smear, “that wherever that ere water has been it’s left a dampness ahind it; the moistur’ consekent upon such a dampness must be evaporated by ever-so-many applications of the warming-pan. The steam which a rises from this hoperation, combined with the extra hart required to hide them two black spots in the middle, will make the job come to one-pund-one, independently of the chalk.”

Agamemnon had nothing left but compliance with Mr. Smear’s demand; and one warming and three stew-pans, filled with live coals, were soon engaged in what Mr. Smear called the “ewaporating department.” As soon as the boards were sufficiently dry, Mr. Smear commenced operations. In each of the four corners of the room he described the diagram of a coral and bells, connecting them with each other by graceful festoons of blue-chalk ribbon tied in large true-lover’s knots in the centre. Having thus completed a frame, he proceeded, after sundry contortions of the facial muscles, to the execution of the great design. Having described an ellipse of red chalk, he tastefully inserted within it a perfect representation of the interior of an infant’s mouth in an early stage of dentition, whilst a graceful letter A seemed to keep the gums apart to allow of this artistical exhibition. Proudly did Mr. Smear cast his small grey eyes on Agamemnon, and challenge him, as it were, to a laudatory acknowledgment of his genius; but as his patron remained silent, Mr. Smear determined to speak out.

“Hart has done her best—language must do the rest. I am now only awaiting for the motter. What shall I say, sir?”

“‘Welcome’ is as good as anything, in my opinion,” replied Collumpsion.

“Welcome!” ejaculated Smear: “a servile himitation of a general ’lumination idea, sir. We must be original. Will you leave it to me?”

“Willingly,” said Agamemnon. And with many inward protestations against parties in general and his own in particular, he left Mr. Smear and his imagination together.

The great artist in chalk paced the room for some minutes, and then slapped his left thigh, in confirmation of the existence of some brilliant idea. The result was soon made apparent on the boards of the drawing-room, where the following inscription attested the immensity of Smear’s genius—

"PARTAKE
OF
OUR
DENTAL DELIGHT."

The guinea was instantly paid; but Collumpsion was for a length of time in a state of uncertainty as to whether Mr. Smear’s talents were ornamental or disfigurative. Nine o’clock arrived, and with it a rumble of vehicles, and an agitation of knocker, that were extremely exhilarating to the heretofore exhausted and distressed family at 24.

We shall not attempt to particularise the arrivals, as they were precisely the same set as our readers have invariably met at routs of the second class for these last five years. There was the young gentleman in an orange waistcoat, bilious complexion, and hair à la Petrarch, only gingered; and so also were the two Misses ——, in blue gauze, looped up with coral,—and that fair-haired girl who “detethted therry,” and those black eyes, whose lustrous beauty made such havoc among the untenanted hearts of the youthful beaux;—but, reader, you must know the set that must have visited the Applebites.

All went “merry as a marriage bell,” and we feel that we cannot do better than assist future commentators by giving a minute analysis of a word which so frequently occurs in the fashionable literature of the present day that doubtlessly in after time many anxious inquiries and curious conjectures would be occasioned, but for the service we are about to confer on posterity (for the pages of PUNCH are immortal) by a description of

A QUADRILLE:

which is a dance particularly fashionable in the nineteenth century. In order to render our details perspicuous and lucid, we will suppose—

—A gentleman in tight pantaloons and a tip.
—Ditto in loose ditto, and a camellia japonica in the button-hole of his coat.
—Ditto in a crimson waistcoat, and a pendulating eye-glass.
—Ditto in violent wristbands, and an alarming eruption of buttons.

ALSO,

—A young lady in pink-gauze and freckles.
—Ditto in book-muslin and marabouts.
—Ditto with blonde and a slight cast.
—Ditto in her 24th year, and black satin.

The four gentlemen present themselves to the four ladies, and having smirked and “begged the honour,” the four pairs take their station in the room in the following order:

	The tip and the freckles.
The camelia japonica, and the marabouts.		The crimson waistcoat, and the slight cast.
	The violent wristbands and the black satin.

During eight bars of music, tip, crimson, camellia, and wristbands, bow to freckles, slight cast, marabouts, and black satin, who curtsey in return, and then commence

LA PANTALON,

by performing an intersecting figure that brings all parties exactly where they were; which joyous circumstance is celebrated by bobbing for four bars opposite to each other, and then indulging in a universal twirl which apparently offends the ladies, who seize hold of each other’s hands only to leave go again, and be twirled round by the opposite gentleman, who, having secured his partner, promenades her half round to celebrate his victory, and then returns to his place with his partner, performing a similar in-and-out movement as that which commenced la Pantalon.

L’ETE

is a much more respectful operation. Referring to our previous arrangement, wristbands and freckles would advance and retire—then they would take two hops and a jump to the right, then two hops and a jump to the left—then cross over, and there hop and jump the same number of times and come back again, and having celebrated their return by bobbing for four bars, they twirl their partners again, and commence

LA POULE.

The crimson waistcoat and marabouts would shake hands with their right, and then cross over, and having shaken hands again with the left, come back again. They then would invite the camellia and the slight cast to join them, and perform a kind of wild Indian dance “all of a row.” After which they all walk to the sides they have no business upon, and then crimson runs round marabout, and taking his partner’s hand, i.e., the slight cast, introduces her to camellia and marabout, as though they had never met before. This introduction is evidently disagreeable, for they instantly retire, and then rush past each other, as furiously as they can, to their respective places.

LA TRENISE

is evidently intended to “trot out” the dancers. Freckles and black satin shake hands as they did in la Pantalon, and then freckles trots tip out twice, and crosses over to the opposite side to have a good look at him; having satisfied her curiosity, she then, in company with black satin, crosses over to have a stare at the violent wristbands, in contrast with tip who wriggles over, and join him, and then, without saying a word to each other, bob, and are twirled as in l’Eté.

LA PASTORALE

seems to be an inversion of la Trenise, except that in nineteen cases out of twenty, the waistcoat, tip, camellia and wristbands, seem to undergo intense mental torture; for if there be such a thing as “poetry of motion,” pastorale must be the “Inferno of Dancing.”

LA FINALE

commences with a circular riot, which leads to l’Eté. The ladies then join hands, and endeavour to imitate the graceful evolutions of a windmill, occasionally grinding the corns of their partners, who frantically rush in with the quixotic intention of stopping them. A general shuffling about then takes place, which terminates in a bow, a bob, and “allow me to offer you some refreshment.”

Malheureux! we have devoted so much space to the quadrille, that we have left none for the supper, which being a cold one, will keep till next week.