Her luncheon was obliged to be a mutton-chop, or a grilled bone, and a pint of porter, bread and cheese having the effect of rendering her “as cross as two sticks, and as sour as werjuice.”  Her dinner, and its satellites, tea and supper, were all required to be hot, strong, and comfortable.  A peculiar hallucination under which she laboured is worthy of remark.  When eating, it was always her declared conviction that she never drank anything, and when detected coquetting with a pint pot or a tumbler, she was equally assured that she never did eat anything after her breakfast.

Mrs. Pilcher’s duties never permitted her to take anything resembling continuous rest; she had therefore another prescription for an hour’s doze after dinner.  Mrs. Pilcher was also troubled with a stiffness of the knee-joints, which never allowed her to wait upon herself.

When this amiable creature had deposited herself in Collumpsion’s old easy-chair, and, with her bundle on her knees, gasped out her first inquiry—­

“I hopes all’s as well as can be expected?”

The heart of Pater Collumpsion trembled in his bosom, for he felt that to this incongruous mass was to be confided the first blossom of his wedded love; and that for one month the dynasty of 24, Pleasant-terrace was transferred from his hands to that of Mrs. Waddledot, his wife’s mother, and Mrs. Pilcher, the monthly nurse.  There was a short struggle for supremacy between the two latter personages; but an angry appeal having been made to Mrs. Applebite, by the lady, “who had nussed the first families in this land, and, in course, know’d her business,” Mrs. Waddledot was forced to yield to Mrs. Pilcher’s bundle in transitu, and Mrs. Applebite’s hysterics in perspective.

Mrs. Pilcher was a nursery Macauley, and had the faculty of discovering latent beauties in very small infants, that none but doting parents ever believed.  Agamemnon was an early convert to her avowed opinions of the heir of Applebite, who, like all other heirs of the same age, resembled a black boy boiled—­that is, if there is any affinity between lobsters and niggers.  This peculiar style of eloquence rendered her other eccentricities less objectionable; and when, upon one occasion, the mixture of juniper and cloves had disordered her head, instead of comforting her stomachic regions, she excused herself by solemnly declaring, that “the brilliancy of the little darling’s eyes, and his intoxicating manners, had made her feel as giddy as a goose.”  Collumpsion and Theresa both declared her discernment was equal to her caudle, of which, by-the-bye, she was an excellent concocter and consumer.