Now arrive the musicians, with a gentle knock:--up goes the harp (like a huge blade-bone in baize), followed by the cornet, violin, and pianist. We ascend:--Mrs. Brown popping and firing her parting injunctions in every direction--at Alphonso, in the (library) coffee-room; at Mr. Strap, by the door; at John, by the foot of the stairs;--and, I was going to say, at the listless supernumerary footman, lolling over the banisters; who appeared in, or rather out of, character, by especial desire, for this night only, being lent with the rout-seats at a sure salary. As Mrs. Brown passed this latter gentleman in silence, we could not help smiling--hoping she might have to think as well of his powers as he did himself, and that all titles entrusted to his care might be safely delivered; for we knew Mrs. Bramston would not be called _Brimstone_, without turning fiery; or Mr. Reynard Sly put up with anything but _Slee_, though he may write it Sly, himself. Having gained the drawing-room, and got fairly through the muslin-barrier in the doorway, which made the staircase look as if in a fog, we found the appearance within very gratifying--everything well out of the way, and no stinting of wax-lights:--altogether exhibiting a clearer stage than is often to be met with--some antique people inviting you to polk in an old curiosity shop;--as, the other evening, at the Dowager Lady Oldbuck's, young Whisk, of the Heavies, brought down a _buhl_ table, covered with porcelain gimcracks; a thing that Lark observed--ought to cure itself, if people wished to save their _Sevres_. Evening parties are not the slow things they used to be:--here the back balcony is all evergreens and tissue-paper blossoms, lit up with a Chinese lanthorn--looking like a fairy bower, tenanted by four gaping gold-fish and a dissipated canary; the little boudoir, beyond, so snug in sage and silver, seeming but small accommodation for card-players. We thought of Lady Oldbuck's--the valuable space occupied by _chaperones_ and corpulent cronies,--blessing the new mode;--dances now being given to dancers, not to dowagers and matrimonial slave-dealers, as heretofore. Mrs. Brown calculates her company; and thinking there is enough for a quadrille in either room, she commences to form them--pouncing, from time to time, upon timid young men by the door, who are led forward, like lambs from a flock, to sacrifice,--until the sets are completed--all but one couple--Mrs. Brown stating herself "distressed for ladies;"--a combination of suffering by no means acute, for she stood up herself, having engaged the amiable young Slowcoach to fill the gap. [Illustration: THE QUADRILLE.]