This irresistible invitation was accepted by several of the auditory, including the baronet, Dashall, and the Squire, who were gratified beyond their anticipations, with a sight of the great polar bear, the desolate inhabitant of a frigid and dismal clime, where Nature has forbid the vegetative, and stinted the growth of the animal creation, with the exception of the shaggy wanderer of the desert and the floundering leviathan of the ocean. The animal was perfectly tractable; and its exhibition well compensated both for time and gratuity.
The proprietor, however, in answer to an enquiry apart by Dashall, acknowledged that his Ursine companion had never been attached to the household of any great personage; although a northern quadruped of lesser interest was under the protection of one of the Royal Dukes and frequently played its mischievous gambols in the environs of Kensington Palace.{1}
1 The Bear at Kensington Palace. Early on Sunday morn-ing it was discovered, that a large black bear, sent as a present to His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, had contrived to break out of his cage, which was placed in a coach-house, and Bruin, having an inclination to explore these premises, containing a hand-some new chariot, mounted the foot-board, and began to play with the tassels; he next ascended the roof and the box, the covering of which became a prey to his claws; after enjoying himself as an outside passenger, as long as he thought proper, he proceeded to examine the interior of the vehicle, and turning from the box, made his entre through the front windows into the carriage, which bore serious marks of his savage curiosity. No one dared to approach this northern visitor, and in order to prevent further depredations in his probable rambles, guards were placed, with fixed bayonets, until some keepers arrived from a Menagerie, who secured him, after great difficulty, in one of their strong cages.
CHAPTER X
“Oh the dear pleasures of the velvet plain, The painted Tablets, deal't and deal't again Cards, with what rapture, and the polish'd die The yawning chasm of indolence supply. Then to the Dance and make the sober moon Witness of joys that shun the sight of noon. Blame cynic if you can, quadrille or ball, The snug close party, or the splendid hall, “Where night down stooping from her ebon throne Views constellations brighter than her own. ?Tis innocent and harmless, and refined, The balm of care, elysium of the mind.”
THE rapid succession of novelty in a Life in London where the scenes like those of a Pantomime are constantly changing
“From grave to gay, from lively to severe,”
scarcely required those attentions which the Hon. Tom Dashall continued to enjoy on the score of arrangements for the gratification and information of his cousin. He was ever watchful of opportunities to furnish new views of Real Life and character to Tallyho, and who never failed to profit by his observations upon Men and manners: for Tom, notwithstanding the gaiety of his disposition, was an acute and discerning companion, who having mingled in all ranks and degrees of Society, was able to associate himself with the high or the low, as circumstances might require, and to form tolerably accurate estimates of those by whom he was surrounded.
It was, therefore, with his usual view to the accomplishment of his cousin as a votary of Real Life in London, that he had proposed a visit to a fancy dress Ball at Almack's, and preparations had accordingly been made between them.