The Invitation.

Thus painters write their names at Co.

PRIOR.

The clamour which attends the removal of dinner from a public room had subsided¹; the clatter² of plates, and knives and forks — the bustling³ tread of awkward boobies of country servants, kicking each other’s shins, and wrangling⁴, as they endeavour to rush out of the door three abreast⁵ — the clash of glasses and tumblers, borne to earth in the tumult⁶ — the shrieks⁷ of the landlady⁸ — the curses, not loud, but deep, of the landlord — had all passed away; and those of the company who had servants, had been accommodated by their respective Ganymedes with such remnants of their respective bottles of wine, spirits, &c., as the said Ganymedes had not previously⁹ consumed, while the rest, broken in to such observance by Mr. Winterblossom, waited patiently until the worthy¹¹ president’s own special and multifarious commissions had been executed by a tidy young woman and a lumpish lad, the regular attendants belonging to the house, but whom he permitted to wait on no one, till, as the hymn¹² says,

“All his wants were well supplied.”

“And, Dinah — my bottle of pale sherry, Dinah — place it on this side — there’s a good girl; — and, Toby — get my

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