The Christmas Books of Mr. M. A. Titmarsh | Page 3

this young
creature's first year in PUBLIC LIFE: she has been educated, regardless
of expense, at Hammersmith; and a simple white muslin dress and blue
ceinture set off charms of which I beg to speak with respectful
admiration.
My distinguished friend the Mulligan of Ballymulligan was good
enough to come the very first of the party. By the way, how awkward it
is to be the first of the party! and yet you know somebody must; but for
my part, being timid, I always wait at the corner of the street in the cab,
and watch until some other carriage comes up.
Well, as we were arranging the sherry in the decanters down the
supper-tables, my friend arrived: "Hwhares me friend Mr. Titmarsh?" I
heard him bawling out to Gregory in the passage, and presently he
rushed into the supper-room, where Mr. and Mrs. Perkins and myself
were, and as the waiter was announcing "Mr. Mulligan," "THE
Mulligan of Ballymulligan, ye blackguard!" roared he, and stalked into
the apartment, "apologoizing," as he said, for introducing himself.
Mr. and Mrs. Perkins did not perhaps wish to be seen in this room,
which was for the present only lighted by a couple of candles; but HE
was not at all abashed by the circumstance, and grasping them both
warmly by the hands, he instantly made himself at home. "As friends of
my dear and talented friend Mick," so he is pleased to call me, "I'm
deloighted, madam, to be made known to ye. Don't consider me in the
light of a mere acquaintance! As for you, my dear madam, you put me
so much in moind of my own blessed mother, now resoiding at
Ballymulligan Castle, that I begin to love ye at first soight." At which
speech Mr. Perkins getting rather alarmed, asked the Mulligan whether

he would take some wine, or go up stairs.
"Faix," says Mulligan "it's never too soon for good dhrink." And
(although he smelt very much of whiskey already) he drank a tumbler
of wine "to the improvement of an acqueentence which comminces in a
manner so deloightful."
"Let's go up stairs, Mulligan," says I, and led the noble Irishman to the
upper apartments, which were in a profound gloom, the candles not
being yet illuminated, and where we surprised Miss Fanny, seated in
the twilight at the piano, timidly trying the tunes of the polka which she
danced so exquisitely that evening. She did not perceive the stranger at
first; but how she started when the Mulligan loomed upon her.
"Heavenlee enchanthress!" says Mulligan, "don't floy at the approach
of the humblest of your sleeves! Reshewm your pleece at that
insthrument, which weeps harmonious, or smoils melojious, as you
charrum it! Are you acqueented with the Oirish Melodies? Can ye play,
'Who fears to talk of Nointy-eight?' the 'Shan Van Voght?' or the 'Dirge
of Ollam Fodhlah?'"
"Who's this mad chap that Titmarsh has brought?" I heard Master
Bacon exclaim to Master Perkins. "Look! how frightened Fanny
looks!"
"O poo! gals are ALWAYS frightened," Fanny's brother replied; but
Giles Bacon, more violent, said, "I'll tell you what, Tom: if this goes on,
we must pitch into him." And so I have no doubt they would, when
another thundering knock coming, Gregory rushed into the room and
began lighting all the candles, so as to produce an amazing brilliancy,
Miss Fanny sprang up and ran to her mamma, and the young gentlemen
slid down the banisters to receive the company in the hall.
EVERYBODY BEGINS TO COME, BUT ESPECIALLY MR.
MINCHIN.
"It's only me and my sisters," Master Bacon said; though "only" meant
eight in this instance. All the young ladies had fresh cheeks and purple

elbows; all had white frocks, with hair more or less auburn: and so a
party was already made of this blooming and numerous family, before
the rest of the company began to arrive. The three Miss Meggots next
came in their fly: Mr. Blades and his niece from 19 in the square:
Captain and Mrs. Struther, and Miss Struther: Doctor Toddy's two
daughters and their mamma: but where were the gentlemen? The
Mulligan, great and active as he was, could not suffice among so many
beauties. At last came a brisk neat little knock, and looking into the hall,
I saw a gentleman taking off his clogs there, whilst Sir Giles Bacon's
big footman was looking on with rather a contemptuous air.
"What name shall I enounce?" says he, with a wink at Gregory on the
stair.
The gentleman in clogs said, with quiet dignity,--
MR. FREDERICK MINCHIN.
"Pump Court, Temple," is printed on his cards in very small type: and
he is a rising barrister of the Western Circuit. He is to be found at home
of mornings: afterwards "at Westminster,"