“A fine young man, James,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, eyeing Jemmy as he elbowed his way down the boat—­“fine young man—­wants a little of his father’s ballast, but there’s no putting old heads on young shoulders.  He’s a beautiful dancer,” added Mr. Jorrocks, putting his arm through the Yorkshireman’s, “let’s go and see him foot it.”  Having worked their way down, they at length got near the dancers, and mounting a ballast box had a fine view of the quadrille.  There were eight or ten couple at work, and Jemmy had chosen a fat, dumpy, red-faced girl, in a bright orange-coloured muslin gown, with black velvet Vandyked flounces, and green boots—­a sort of walking sunflower, with whom he was pointing his toe, kicking out behind, and pirouetting with great energy and agility.  His male vis-a-vis was a waistcoatless young Daniel Lambert, in white ducks, and a blue dress-coat, with a carnation in his mouth, who with a damsel in ten colours, reel’d to and fro in humble imitation.  “Green for ever!” cried Mr. Jorrocks, taking off his velvet cap and waving it encouragingly over his head:  “Green for ever!  Go it Green!” and, accordingly, Green went it with redoubled vigour.  “Wiggins for ever!” responded a female voice opposite, “I say, Wiggins!” which was followed by a loud clapping of hands, as the fat gentleman made an astonishing step.  Each had his admiring applauders, though Wiggins “had the call” among the ladies—­the opposition voice that put him in nomination proceeding from the mother of his partner, who, like her daughter, was a sort of walking pattern book.  The spirit of emulation lasted throughout the quadrille, after which, sunflower in hand, Green traversed the deck to receive the compliments of the company.

“You must be ’ungry,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, with great politeness to the lady, “after all your exertions,” as the latter stood mopping herself with a coarse linen handkerchief—­“pray, James, bring your partner to our ’amper, and let me offer her some refreshment,” which was one word for the Sunflower and two for himself, the sea breeze having made Mr. Jorrocks what he called “unkimmon peckish.”  The hamper was speedily opened, the knuckle of veal, the half ham, the aitch bone of beef, the Dorking sausages (made in Drury Lane), the chickens, and some dozen or two of plovers’ eggs were exhibited, while Green, with disinterested generosity, added his baked pigeon and cold maccaroni to the common stock.  A vigorous attack was speedily commenced, and was kept up, with occasional interruptions by Green running away to dance, until they hove in sight of Herne Bay, which caused an interruption to a very interesting lecture on wines, that Mr. Jorrocks was in the act of delivering, which went to prove that port and sherry were the parents of all wines, port the father, and sherry the mother; and that Bluecellas, hock, Burgundy, claret, Teneriffe, Madeira, were made by the addition of water, vinegar, and a few chemical ingredients, and that of all “humbugs,” pale sherry was the greatest, being neither more nor less than brown sherry watered.  Mr. Jorrocks then set to work to pack up the leavings in the hamper, observing as he proceeded, that wilful waste brought woeful want, and that “waste not, want not,” had ever been the motto of the Jorrocks family.