The champagne breakfast on the following morning who shall describe! What pen, albeit accustomed to the highest nights imaginable, may venture to depict the humours of that memorable entertainment! How, when the company were assembled, it was discovered Mr. Pilkington was missing, and a party, headed by Lawless, proceeded to his rooms, which were on the same staircase, and brought him down, vi et armis, in a state of mind bordering on distraction, picturesquely attired in a dressing-gown, slippers, and smoking-cap, of a decidedly oriental character; and how, when they had forced him into a seat of honour at Mr. Frampton's right hand, that gentleman discovered in him a striking likeness to his particular friend the Rajah of Bundleoragbag, which name, being instantly adopted by the company, he was invariably addressed by ever after. How, as the champagne circulated, the various members of the party began to come out strong, according to their several idiosyncrasies, every man who had a peculiarity exhibiting it for the benefit of the others; while those who had not were even more amusing, either from their aping the manners of somebody else, or from the sheer absurdity of uttering insipid commonplaces in such an atmosphere of fun and frolic. How, later in the day, after healths had been drunk, and thanks returned, till every one, save Pilkington, was hoarse with shouting, that individual was partly coaxed, partly coerced into attempting to sing the only song he knew, which proved to be, “We met”; in which performance, after making four false starts, and causing a great many more meetings to take place than the author of the song ever contemplated, he contrived, in a voice suggestive of a sudden attack of cholera, to get as far as the words, “For thou art the cause of this anguish, my mother,” when he was interrupted by such a chorus of laughter as completely annihilated him for the rest of the day.
How Mr. Frampton, without giving the slightest warning of his intention, or there being anything in the subject of the conversation generally to lead thereunto, began to relate his adventure with the tiger of Bundleapoor; while Lawless favoured the company with a full, true and particular account of a surprising run with the royal stag-hounds; and Archer, who had grown sentimental, with tears in his eyes, entered into a minute detail of certain passages in a romantic attachment he had conceived for a youthful female branch of the aristocracy, whom he designated as Lady Barbara B.; and how these three gentlemen continued their various recitals all at one and the same time, edifying the company by some such composite style of dialogue as the following:—
“So, sir, Slingsby roused me by a kick in the ribs, saying —umph!”—“Fairest, loveliest of thy sex,”—“Shove on your boots and buckskins, stick a cigar in your mouth, and clap your leg over,”—“An elephant half as high again as this room; take a couple of double-barrelled rifles, and”—“Slap at everything that comes in your way; no craning, ram in the persuaders, and if you do get a purl”—“Look upon it as the purest, brightest gem in your noble father's coronet, for true affection”—“Flung him clean into the tiger's jaws, sir, and the beast”—“Drew her handkerchief across her eyes, and said, in a voice which quivered with emotion, 'Love between two young creatures, situated as we are, would be utter madness, Charles'. To which I replied, 'Barbara, my own sweet girl,'”—“Mind your eye, and look out for squalls, for that's a rasper, and no mistake”.
How all this took place, together with much more notable merriment, not many degrees removed from “tipsy mirth and jollity,” we will leave to the fertile imagination of the reader to depict. Suffice it to say that, ere we broke up, Mr. Frampton had distinctly pledged himself to ride one of Lawless's horses the next hunting-day, and to accompany Archer on a three weeks' visit to the country seat of Lady Barbara B.'s noble father, with some ulterior views on his own account in regard to a younger sister.