Mr. Benjamin Bobbin. 135 



together, *' I can't make a gentleman hof 'im. I 7nust give 

 *im up at the end of the season, for I raly can't stand his 

 wulgarity any longer." 



Early in November Bobbin proceeded to give a house, 

 warming, in the shape of a dinner party, followed by a 

 ball. His house was crammed to the muzzle, for people 

 will always cotton to anybody with lots of money nowa- 

 days. Two or three hard-up baronets and one noble lord 

 even honoured him with their presence. Charlie Wildoats, 

 too, made one of the house party, and great fun he had 

 — he at once constituted himself adviser in general to Mr. 

 Bobbin. The day of the ball there was to be a grand battue, 

 so our mischievous friend promptly told Mr. B. con- 

 fidentially that it was always the correct thing for the 

 host on these occasions not to shoot himself, but to come 

 out in his Sunday best and simply direct the proceedings. 

 Accordingly Mr. Bobbin appeared at breakfast in frock 

 coat, light trousers, and patent leather boots, as if he was 

 going to walk down Bond Street. Wildoats frightened 

 him out of his life on several occasions by shooting 

 rabbits close to him. Once he very neatly dropped a 

 rocketer right on Mr. B.'s glossy Lincoln and Bennett. 

 This last event finished the new Squire, and after 

 luncheon — a hot one, with no end of champagne — which 

 took place in a tent, he took his departure. 



Dinner-time came, the guests arrived, and Bobbin led 

 the way into the dining-room, with old Lady Foodie on 

 his arm. 



" Ah! my lady," said he (he had been the night before 

 to a great dinner party at the Mansion House) — '' ah ! my 

 lady, this time last evenin' I was a ' harmin' ' a Duchess 

 downstairs." 



