“Mere prejudice, madam; the object of the _mustacea_ was actually to remove or prevent the indigestion which might be occasioned by eating too copiously at the marriage entertainment; and it must, I think, be acknowledged that the compound was better adapted for such a purpose than the modern bride-cake, to which it gave origin.” “With respect to the _roast-beef_, to which the major has just alluded,” continued the vicar, “I shall only observe, that it was not until the reign of Henry VIII. that it appears to have taken its part in the formation of our national character.” “I would beg to enquire to whom the selection and arrangement of the comic entertainments are to be intrusted. Unless the major should have already found a competent person, I think I can recommend to his notice an individual who is eminently qualified for the duties,” said Mr. Seymour. “I am, at this moment, in quest of such a director,” said the major. “Ned Hopkins, then, who has for some time past taken up his abode at our village alehouse, is the very person, of all others, whom you seek. I have no doubt that for a trifling consideration he will undertake the office; and I feel equally confident that he will execute its duties to your satisfaction.” “Ned Hopkins!” exclaimed the vicar, with some surprise. “To be sure; and who better understands the trim of those itinerant sons of Comus? Was not his father a mountebank doctor, and a professor of the art of legerdemain?” “I value not Ned Hopkins the less on that account; the immortal Virgil was the son of a servant, or assistant, to a wandering astrologer, or ‘Medicus Magus,’ as Juvenal has it; and the mother of Euripides was a cabbage-woman, for which Aristophanes so unjustifiably ridicules him. But my dislike to Ned Hopkins is founded upon his own dissipated habits, his disgusting jokes, and Bacchanalian buffoonery.” “Ay,” continued Mr. Seymour, “and his bad puns, vile quotations, and hackneyed proverbs; and yet you must confess that, after all, he is a very clever fellow.” “Sir,” observed the vicar, “Satan does not usually select a fool as his ambassador.” “Upon my word, gentlemen, this must needs be a very amusing fellow; and you have so far excited my curiosity, as to make me desirous of hearing something farther of his history and habits,” said the major.