The HISTORY of POMPEY the LITTLE
|Contents||Book I, Chapters XVI-XVIII||Chapters IV-VI|
|Chapter I||Chapter II||Chapter III|
|Sir Thomas Browne|
Fortune grows favourable to our hero, and restores him to high-life.
HE blind beggar, to whose tyranny fortune had committed our hero, groaned out his soul, as the reader has already seen, in a stable at a public inn. Pompey, standing by, had the pleasure of seeing the tyrant fall as he deserved, and exulted over him, like Cicero in the senate-house over the dying Cæsar. This misfortune was first discovered by an ostler, who coming accidentally into the stable, and perceiving the miserable creature stretched out on the straw, began at first to holla in his ear, imagining him to be asleep : but finding him insensible to three or four hearty kicks, which he bestowed upon him, ' od-rabbet un,' cries he, ' why sure a can't be dead, can a ? by gar he is --- pillgarlick is certainly dead.' He then called together two or three of his brethren, to divert themselves with this agreeable spectacle, and many stable jokes passed upon the occasion. When their diversion was over, one of them ran in doors to inform their mistress ; but the good woman was not immediately at leisure to hear his intelligence, being taken up in her civilities to a coach-and-six, just then arrived, and very busy in conducting the ladies to their apartments. However, when dinner was over, she bethought herself of what had happened, and went into the stable, attended by two of her chamber-maids, to survey the corpse, and give orders for its burial. There little Pompey, for the first time, presented himself to her view ; but sorrow and ill-usage had so impaired his beauty, and his coat too was in such a dishabille of dirt and mire, that he bespake no favourable opinion in his beholders. We must not therefore think Mrs. Windmill of a cruel nature, because she ordered him to be hanged, for, in reality, she is a very humane and friendly woman ; but perceiving no beauty in the dog to incline her to compassion, and concluding him to be a thief, from the company he was found with, it was natural for her to shew him no mercy. A consultation therefore was held in the yard, and sentence of death pronounced upon him ; which had been executed as soon as commanded (for the ostler was instantly preparing a rope with great delight) had not one of the chamber-maids interposed, saying, ' she believed he was a sweet pretty creature, if he was washed,' and desired her mistress to save him. A word of this kind was enough for Mrs. Windmill, who immediately granted him a reprieve, and ordered him into the kitchen for a turn-spit. But when he had gone thro' the ceremony of lustration, and was thoroughly cleaned, every body was struck with his beauty, and the good landlady in particular ; who now changed her resolutions, and, instead of condemning him to the drudgery of a turn-spit, made him her companion, and taught him to follow her about the house. He soon grew to be a favourite with the whole family, as indeed he always was wherever he came ; and the chamber-maids used to take him to their beds at night. He likewise got acquainted with Captain, the great house-dog, who, like Cerberus, terrified the regions round-about with his barking : yet would he often condescend to be pleased with the frolicks of little Pompey, and vouchsafe now and then to unbend his majesty with a game of play.
After he had lived here near a fortnight, a post-chaise stopt one day at the door, out of which alighted two ladies, just arrived from the Bath. They ran directly to the fire, declaring they were almost frozen to death with cold ; whereupon Mrs. Windmill began to thunder for wood, and assisted in making up an excellent fire : after which, she begged the favour to know what their ladyships would please to have for dinner. ' If you please, madam,' said the eldest, ' I'll look into your larder.' ' With all my heart, madam,' answered the good landlady ; ' I have fish and fowls of all kinds, and rabbets and hares, and variety of butcher's meat --- but your ladyship says you will be so good to accommodate yourself on the spot --- I am ready to attend your ladyship, whenever your ladyship pleases.'
While the eldest was gone to examine the larder, the youngest of these ladies, having seized little Pompey, who followed his mistress into the room, was infinitely charmed with its beauty, and caressed him during the whole time of her sister's absence. Pompey, in return, seemed pleased to be taken notice of by so fair a lady ; for tho' he had long been disused to the company of people of fashion, he had not yet forgot how to behave himself with complaisance and good-manners. He felt a kind of pride returning, which all his misfortunes had not been able to extinguish, and began to hope the time was come, which should restore him to the beau-monde. With these hopes he continued in the room all the time the ladies were at dinner, paying great court to them both, and receiving what they were pleased to bestow upon him with much fawning, and officious civility.
As soon as the ladies had dined, Mrs. Windmill came in to make her compliments, as usual, hoping the dinner was dressed to their ladyships minds, and that the journey had not destroyed their appetites. She received very courteous answers to all she said, and after some other conversation on indifferent topics, little Pompey came at last upon the carpet. ' Pray madam,' said the youngest of the ladies, ' how long have you had this very pretty dog ?' Mrs. Windmill, who never was deficient, when she had an opportunity of talking, having started so fair a subject, began to display her eloquence in the following manner. ' Madam,' says she, ' the little creature fell into my hands by the strangest accident in life, and it is G-d's mercy he was not hanged --- An old blind beggar, ladies, died in my stable about a fortnight ago, and it seems, this little animal used to lead him about the country. 'Tis amazing how they come by the instinct they have in them --- and such a little creature too --- But as I was telling you, ladies, the old blind beggar was just returned from Bath, as your ladyships may be now, and the poor miserable wretch perished in my stable. There he left this little dog, and, will you believe it, ladies ? as I am alive, I ordered him to be hanged, not once dreaming he was such a beauty ; for indeed he was quite covered over with mire and nastiness, as to be sure he could not be otherwise, after leading the old blind man so long a journey ; but a maid-servant of mine took a fancy to the little wretch, and begged his life ; and, would you think it, ladies ? I am now grown as fond of the little fool, as if he was my own child.'
The two sisters, diverted with Mrs. Windmill's oration, could not help smiling on one another ; but disguising their laughter as well as they could, ' I do not wonder,' said the youngest, ' at your fondness for him, madam ; he is so remarkably handsome ; and that being the case, I can't find in my heart to rob you of him, otherwise I was just going to ask if you should be willing to part with him.' ' Bless me, madam,' said the obliging hostess, ' I am sure there is nothing I would not do to oblige your ladyship, and if your ladyship has such an affection for the little wretch --- Not part with him indeed !' ' Nay, madam,' said the lady interrupting her, ' I would willingly make you any amends, and if you will please to name your price, I'll purchase him of you.' ' Alack a-day, madam,' replied the landlady, ' I am sorry your ladyship suspects me to be of such a mercenary disposition ; purchase him indeed ! he is extremely at your ladyship's service, if you please to accept of him.' --- With these words she took him up, and delivered him into the lady's arms, who received him with many acknowledgements of the favour done her ; all which the good landlady repaid with abundant interest.
Word was now brought, that the chaise was ready, and waited at the door ; whereupon, the two ladies were obliged to break off their conversation, and Mrs. Windmill to restrain her eloquence. She attended them, with a million of civil speeches, to their equipage, and handling little Pompey to them, when they were seated in it, took her leave with a great profusion of smiles and curtsies. The postillion blew his horn ; the ladies bowed ; and our hero's heart exulted with transport, to think of the amendment of his fate.
A long chapter of characters.
THE post-chaise stopped in a genteel street in London, and Pompey was introduced into decent lodgings, where every thing had an air of politeness, yet nothing was expensive. The rooms were hung with Indian paper ; the beds were Chinese ; and the whole furniture seemed to shew how elegant simplicity can be under direction of taste. tea was immediately ordered, and the two ladies sat down to refresh themselves after the fatigue of their journey, and began to talk over the adventures they had met with at the Bath. They remembered many agreeable incidents, which had happened in that great rendezvous of pleasure, and ventured to laugh at some follies of their acquaintance, without severity or ill-nature.
These two ladies were born of a good family. and had received a genteel education. Their father indeed left them no more than six thousand pounds each ; but as they united their fortunes, and managed their affairs with frugality, they made a creditable figure in the world, and lived in intimacy with people of the greatest fashion. It will be necessary, for the sake of distinction, to give them names, and the reader, if he pleases, may call them Theodosia and Aurora.
Theodosia, the eldest, was advancing towards forty, an age when personal charms begin to fade, and women grow indifferent at least, who have nothing better to supply the place of them. But Theodosia was large possessed of all those good qualities, which render women agreeable without beauty : She was affable and easy in her behaviour ; well-bred without falsehood ; chearful without levity ; polite and obliging to her friends, civil and generous to her domestics. Nature had given her a good temper, and education had made it an agreeable one. She had lived much in the world, without growing vain or insolent ; improved her understanding by books, without any affectation of wit or science, and loved public places, without being a slave to pleasure. Her conversation was always engaging, and often entertaining. Her long commerce with the world had supplied her with a fund of diverting remarks on life, and her good sense enabled he to deliver them with grace and propriety.
Aurora, the youngest sister, was in her four and twentieth year, and imagination cannot possibly form a finer figure than she was, in every respect. Her beauty, now in hits highest lustre, gave that full satisfaction to the eye, which younger charms rarely inspire. She was tall and full-formed, but with the utmost elegance and symmetry in all her limbs ; and a certain majesty, which resulted from her shape, was accompanied with a most peculiar sweetness of face : For tho' she had all the charms, she had none of the insolence of beauty. As if these uncommon perfections of nature, were not sufficient to procure her admirers enough, she had added to them the most winning accomplishments of art : She danced and sung, and played like an angel ; her voice naturally clear, full, and melodious, had been improved under the best Italian masters ; and she was ready to oblige people with her music, on the slightest intimation, that it would be agreeable, without any airs of shyness and unseasonable modesty. Indeed, affectation never entered into any one of her gestures, and whatsoever she did, was with that generous freedom of manner, which denotes a good understanding, as well as an honest heart. Her temper was chearful in the highest degree, and she had a most uncommon flow of spirits and good-humour, which seldom deserted her in any place, or any company. At a ball she was extremely joyous and spirited, and the pleasure she gave to her beholders, could only be exceeded by that unbounded happiness with which she inspired her partner. Yet tho' her genius led her to be lively, and a little romantic, whoever conversed with her in private, admitted her good sense, and heard reflexions from her, which plainly shewed she had often exercised her understanding on the most serious subjects.
A woman so beautiful in her person, and excellent in her accomplishments, could not fail of attracting lovers in great abundance ; and as the characters of some of her admirers may perhaps not be unentertaining, we will give the reader a little sketch of two of them, from among a great variety.
And first, let us pay our compliments to Count Tag, who had merited a title by his exploits ; which perhaps is not the most usual step to honour, but always most respectable whenever it happens. 'Tis true he had no patent to show for his nobility, which depended entirely on the arbitrium popularis auræ, the fickleness of popular applause ; but the same arts, which had procured him his title, he trusted to for the preservation of it. He had indeed taken great pains to be a coxcomb of distinguished reputation, and by the help of uncommon talents this way, was now arrived at the full extent of his wishes. Having established a large acquaintance among people of fashion, who admitted him for the the sake of laughing at him, he really fancied himself one of their number, and had long ago thought proper to forget his family and primæval meanness. But that the reader may know by what steps he rose to the conspicuous station of ridicule he now possessed, let us trace him in his progress to it.
Count Tag was the son of a Brewer in a great market-town, who having grown rich in trade, was seized with the unfortunate ambition of breeding up his son a gentleman ; for which purpose he sent him first to a public school, and afterwards to the university of Oxford. Being here on a level with people much his superiors, the young gentleman learned to grow fond of great company, and very early began to calculate the degree of his happiness by the number of his fashionable acquaintance. At last his father died, and left him a fortune of about eight thousand pounds ; upon the news whereof, he immediately transported himself from Oxford to London, resolving to make a bold push, as it is called, to introduce himself into life. He had a strong ambition of becoming a fine gentleman, and cultivating an acquaintance with people of fashion, which he esteemed the most consummate character attainable by man, and to that he resolved to dedicate his days. As his first essay therefore, he presented himself every evening in a side-box at one of the play-houses, where he was ready to enter into conversation with any body that would afford him an audience ; but was particularly assiduous in applying himself to young noblemen and men of fortune, whom he had formerly known at school, or at the university. By degrees he got footing in two or three families of quality, where he was sometimes invited to dinner ; and having learnt the fashionable topics of discourse, he studied to make himself agreeable, by entertaining them with the current news of the town. He had the first intelligence of a marriage or an intrigue, knew to a moment when the breath went out of a nobleman's body, and published the scandal of a masquerade, or a ridotta, sooner by half an hour at least, than any other public talker in London. He had a conspicuous fluency of language, which made him embellish every subject he undertook, and a certain art of talking as minutely and circumstantially on the most trivial subjects, as on those of the highest importance. He would describe a straw, or a pimple on a lady's face, with all the figures of rhetoric ; by which he persuaded many people to believe him a man of great parts ; and surely no man's impertinence ever turned to better account. As he constantly attended Bath and Tunbridge, and all the public places, he got easier access to the tables of the great, and by degrees insinuated himself into all the parties of the ladies ; among whom he began to be received as a considerable genius, and quickly became necessary in all their drums and assemblies.
Finding his schemes thus succeed almost beyond his hopes, he now assumed a higher behaviour, and began to fancy himself a man of quality from the company he kept. With this view he thought proper to forget all his old acquaintance, whose low geniusses left them groveling in obscurity, while his superior talents had raised him to a familiarity with lords and ladies. If therefore any old friend, presuming on their former intimacy, ventured to accost him in the park, he made a formal bow, and begged pardon for leaving him ; ' but really, lady Betty, or lady Mary was just entering the mall.' In short, he always proportioned his respect to the rank and fortunes of his company ; he would desert a commoner for a lord, a lord for an earl, an earl for a marquis, and a marquis for a duke. Having thus enrolled himself in his own imagination among the nobility, it was not without reason that people gave him the style and title of Count Tag, thinking it a pity that such a genius should be called by the ordinary name of his family.
To say this gentleman was in love, would be too great an abuse of language, for he was in reality incapable of loving any body but himself. But vanity and the mode, often made him affect attachments to women of celebrated beauty, from whose acquaintance he thought he could derive a credit to himself. This was his motive for appearing one of the admirers of Aurora, whose charms were conspicuous enough to excite his pride, and that was the only passion which the count ever thought of gratifying. He knew how to counterfeit raptures which he never felt, and had all the language of love, without any of its sentiment.
The other admirer of Aurora, whose character we likewise promised to draw, was one in all respects the reverse of Count Tag, and may very well serve as his contrast. He was a young nobleman about her own age, blest with every personal accomplishment that could render him agreeable, and every good quality that could make him beloved. If an excellent understanding, improved by competent reading ; if the most uncommon integrity of mind, joined with the greatest candour and sensibility of heart ; if a soul passionately devoted to the love of truth, which abhorred falshood and detested affectation ; if all these perfections can render any one the object of esteem, they all united in forming the character of this amiable young nobleman. But to esteem him only was paying him but half his due. There was something so very open and sincere in his looks, so winning in his conversation, and striking in all his actions, that no body ever departed from him without a thorough love and admiration of him. He had the most agreeable manner of address, improved, but not corrupted by the civilities of the world ; a uniform, unaffected, natural gentility, which put mere politeness out of countenance, and left artificial complaisance at a distance. In a word, he had the most cordial warmth of heart, the greatest generosity of sentiment, and the truest æquanimity of temper upon all occasions in life.
Being inspired with a passion for an agreeable woman, he was neither ashamed to own it, nor yet did he use the ridiculous elogiums, with which coxcombs talk of their mistresses, when their imaginations are heated with wine. He did not compare her to the Venus of Medicis, or run into any of those artificial raptures, which are almost always counterfeited : but whenever he mentioned her name, he spoke the language of his heart, and spoke of her always with a manliness, that testified the reality and sincerity of his passion. It was impossible for a woman not to return the affections of so deserving a lover : Aurora was happy to be the object of his addresses, and met them with becoming zeal.
The characters of the foregoing chapter exemplified. An irreparable misfortune befals our hero.
THE two sisters had lain longer a-bed that usual the morning after their arrival in town, which was owing to the fatigue of their journey. They had but just finished their breakfast by twelve o'clock ; Aurora was then sitting down to her harpsichord, and Theodosia reading the play-bills for the evening ; when the door opened, and Count Tag was ushered by a servant into the room.
When the first ceremonies were a little over, and the count had expressed the prodigious satisfaction he felt in feeling them returned to town ; he began to enquire what kind of season they had had at Bath ? ' Why really,' said Theodosia, ' a very good one upon the whole ; there were many agreeable people there, and all of them easy and sociable ; which made our time pass away chearfully and pleasantly enough.' ' You amaze me,' cries the Count ; ' impossible, madam ! how can it be, ladies ? --- I had letters from lord Marmazet, and lady Betty Scornful, assuring me, that except you and themselves, there were not three human creatures in the place. --- Let me see, I have lady Betty's letter in my pocket, I believe, at this moment --- Oh no, upon recollection, I put it this morning into my cabinet, where I preserve all my letters of quality.'
Aurora, smothering a laugh as well as she could, said she was extremely obliged to lord Marmazet, and lady Betty, for vouchsafing to rank her and her sister in the catalogue of human beings ; ' but surely,' added she, ' they must have been asleep both of them, when they wrote their letters, for the Bath was extremely full.' ' Full !' cries the Count, interrupting her ; 'oh, madam, that is very possible, and yet there might be no company --- that is, none of us ; no-body that one knows --- for as to all the tramontanes that come by the cross post, we never reckon them as any thing but monsters in human shape, that serve to fill up the stage of life, like cyphers in a play. For instance, you often see an awkward girl, who has sewed a tail to a gown, and pinned two lappets to a night-cap, run headlong into the rooms with a wild frosty face, as if she was just come from feeding poultry in her father's chicken-yard --- Or you see a booby 'squire, with a head resembling a stone-ball over a gate-post. --- Now it would be the most ridiculous thing in life, to call such people company. 'Tis the want of titles, and not the want of faces, that makes a place empty ; for if there is no-body one knows --- if there are none of us in a place, we esteem all the rest as mob and rabble.
Here it was impossible for the two ladies any longer to contain their laughter. ' Hold, hold, for heaven's sake,' said Theodosia, interrupting him, ' have a little mercy, Count, on us poor mortals who are born without titles, and don't banish us quite from all public places. Consider, sir, tho' you have been so happy as to acquire a title, all of us have not the same good fortune, must we then be reckoned among the mob and rabble of life ?'
' Oh, by no means,' cries the Count, you misunderstand me entirely --- you are in the polite circle, ladies ; we reckon you among the quality. Whoever belongs to the polite circle, is of the quality. I was only talking of the wretched figures, who know nobody, and are known of nobody ; they are the mob and rabble I was speaking of. --- You indeed ! no, pardon me--- but pray ladies, who was this miss Newcome, this great beauty, that made such a figure among you at Bath ? Was she ever in any of our drums or assemblies ?'
' No, sir,' replied Theodosia ; ' it was the first time of her appearing, I believe, in any public place ; she came under the protection of lady Marmazet. She is a very agreeable girl, and really exceedingly pretty. I often conversed with her, and indeed she promises to make a very fine woman, if she does not play to fool, and throw herself away upon that odious, detestable Griskin. '
' Ay, that Griskin too !' cries the Count, ' who is that detestable Griskin ? I think I am acquainted with all the families of any note in England, and yet in my days I never heard of Sir Jeremy Griskin.'
' No, sir,' said Aurora, with a smile, ' 'tis impossible you should know any such English family, for he gave out that he came from Ireland ; and even there, I fancy, one should be pretty much puzzled to find it ; for I am very apt to suspect that Mr. Griskin is nothing better than a notorious sharper. We had a report at Bath, that he was the son of a blind beggar. The truth of this indeed never came perfectly to light, but sure lady Marmazet, if she has any friendship for the girl, must be mad to encourage such a match.'
' Absolutely distracted,' cries the Count ; ' I can't imagine what she means by it ; and indeed when she comes to town, I shall rally her ladyship for having such a beauty in petto, without letting me know any thing of the matter.'
While the Count was thus displaying his own merit and acquaintance with the grand monde, the door opened on a sudden, and the young lord appeared, whose character concluded the preceding chapter. He approached the ladies with a respectful bow, and enquired tenderly concerning their health, but addressed himself rather in a more particular manner to Aurora. Her face immediately changed on his entering the room, and a certain air of affectionate languor took possession of her features, which before were a little expressive of scorn and ridicule : in short, she received him with something more than complaisance, and a tone of voice only calculated to convey the sentiments of love.
But as the delicacy of her passion chose to reveal itself as little as possible before witnesses, she soon recovered the gaiety of her features, and addressing herself with a smile to her beloved peer, ' my lord,' said she, ' you are come in excellent time --- the Count is entertaining us here with a very ingenious lecture on what it is we are to call the world.'
Count Tag was no stranger to his lordship, who perfectly knew, and heartily despised him for his foppery and affectation. Yet he was obliged now and then to submit to a visit from him ; for being in possession of a title, the Count, who haunted all people of quality, would obtrude himself on his acquaintance contrary to his inclination ; and good manners, as well as the natural candour of his temper, restrained him from expressing his detestation in too explicit terms. He had however no great desire at present to hear him upon a topic, where his impertinence would have so great a scope, and therefore endeavoured to turn the conversation to some other subject : but the Count, whose eyes sparkled (as they always did) on the appearance of a man of quality, no sooner saw him seated in his chair, than he fastened immediately upon him, and began to appeal to his lordship for a confirmation of his sentiments. ' My lord,' said he, ' I was endeavouring to convince the ladies, that if there is no-body one knows, none of us, in a public place, all the rest are to be considered in the light of porters and oyster-women. I dare say your lordship is of the same opinion.'
' Indeed sir, but I am not,' replied his lordship, ' and therefore I must desire you would not draw me into a participation of any such sentiments. The language of people one knows, and people one does not know, is what I very often hear in the world ; but it seems to me the most contemptible jargon that ever was invented. Indeed for my own part, I don't understand it, and therefore I confess I am not qualified to talk about it. Whom pray are we to call the people one knows ?'
' O mon dieu !' cries the Count, ' your lordship surely can't ask such a question. The people one knows, my lord, are the people who are in the round of assemblies and public diversions, people who have the scavoir vivre, the ton de bonne compaigne, as the French call it --- in short, people who frize their hair in the newest fashion, and have their cloaths made at Paris.'
' And are these the only people worth one's regard in life ?' said his lordship.
' Absolutely, my lord !' cries the Count, ' I can readily allow that people of quality must in general live with one another ; the customs of the world in good measure require it ; but surely our station gives us no right to behave with insolence to people below us, because they have not their cloaths from Paris, or do not frize their hair in the newest fashion. And I am sure if people of quality have no such right, it much less becomes the fops and coxcombs in fashion, who are but the retainers on people of quality, who are themselves only in public by permission, and can pretend to no merit, but what they derive from an acquaintance with their betters. This surely is the most contemptible of all modern follies. For instance, because a man is permitted to whisper nonsense in a lady Betty's or lady Mary's ear, in the side-box at a play-house, shall be therefore fancy himself privileged to behave with impertinence to people infinitely his superiors in merit, who perhaps have not thought it worth their while to riggle themselves into a great acquaintance ? --- What say you, madam,' added he, addressing himself to Theodosia.
' Your observation,' she replied, ' is exceedingly just, my lord ! but why do you confine it to your own sex ? pray let ours come in for a share of the satire --- For my part, I could name a great many trumpery insignificant girls about town, who having riggled themselves, as you say, into a polite acquaintance, give themselves ten times more airs, and are fifty thousand times more conceited, than the people to whose company they owe their pride. I have one now in my thoughts, who is throughout a composition of vanity and folly, and has been for several years the public jest and ridicule of the town for her behaviour.'
All this while the Count sat in some confusion. For tho' he had a wonderful talent, as indeed most people have, at warding off scandal from himself, and applying the satire he met with to his neighbours, he was here so plainly described, that it was hardly possible for him to be mistaken. Aurora saw this, and resolving to compleat his confusion, ' Count,' said she, ' I have had it in my head this many a day to ask you a question --- will you be so obliging as to tell me how you came by your title ?' ' O pardon me, I have no title, madam,' cries the Count --- ' mere badinage and ridicule, a nick-name given me by some of my friends, that's all --- but another time for that. At present I am obliged to call upon lord Monkeyman, who desires my opinion of some pictures he is going to buy ; after which I shall look in upon lady Betty Vincent, whom I positively have not seen for these three days.' Here he rose up, and made all the haste he could away, being exceedingly glad to escape the persecution, which he saw was preparing for him.
Little Pompey was witness of many of these interviews, and began to think himself happily situated for life. He was a great favourite with Aurora, who caressed him with the fondest tenderness, and permitted him to sleep every night in a chair by her bed-side. When she awoke in a morning, she would embrace him with an ardour, which the happiest lover might have envied. Our hero's vanity perhaps made him fancy himself the genuine object of these caresses, whereas in reality he was only the representative of a much nobler creature. In this manner he lived with his new mistresses the greater part of a winter, and might still have continued in the same happy situation, had he not ruined himself by his own imprudence.
Aurora had been dancing one night at a ridotta with her beloved peer, and retired late to her lodgings, with that vivacity in her looks, and transport ion her thoughts, which love and pleasure always inspire. Animated with delightful presages of future happiness, she sat herself down in a chair, to recollect, the conversation that had passed between them. After this, she went to bed, and resigned herself to the purest slumbers. She slept longer than usual the next morning, and it seemed as if some golden dream was pictured in her fancy ; for her cheek glowed with unusual beauty, and her voice spontaneously pronounced, my lord, I am wholly yours. --- While her imagination was presenting her with these delicious ideas, little Pompey, who heard the sound, thought she over-slept herself, leaped upon the bed, and waked her with his barking. To be interrupted in so critical a minute, while she was dreaming of her beloved peer, was an offence she knew not how to pardon, she darted a most enraged look at him, and resolved never to see him any more ; but disposed of him that very morning to her milliner, who attended her with a new head-dress.
Thus was he again removed to new lodgings, and condemned to future adventures.
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This page is by James Eason.