There were comic songs and negro melodies, with a chorus all round.
Lintot would sing "Vilikins and his Dinah," in the manner of Mr. Robson,
so well that even Mrs. Lintot's stern mask would relax into indulgent
smiles. It was irresistible. And when the party broke up, we could all
(thanks to our host) honestly thank our hostess "for a very pleasant
evening," and cheerfully, yet almost regretfully, wish her good-night.
It is good to laugh sometimes--wisely if one can; if not, _quocumque
modo_! There are seasons when even "the crackling of thorns under a pot"
has its uses. It seems to warm the pot--all the pots--and all the
emptiness thereof, if they be empty.
* * * * *
Once, indeed, I actually made a friend, but he did not last me very
long.
It happened thus: Mrs. Lintot gave a grander party than usual. One of
the invited was Mr. Moses Lyon, the great picture-dealer--a client of
Lintot's; and he brought with him young Raphael Merridew, the already
famous painter, the most attractive youth I had ever seen. Small and
slight, but beautifully made, and dressed in the extreme of fashion,
with a handsome face, bright and polite manners, and an irresistible
voice, he became his laurels well; he would have been sufficiently
dazzling without them.
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