The livery cupboards were loaded with plate of the richest description, and the most varied—­some articles tasteful, some perhaps grotesque, in the invention and decoration, but all gorgeously magnificent, both from the richness of the work and value of the materials.  Thus the chief table was adorned by a salt, ship-fashion, made of mother-of-pearl, garnished with silver and divers warlike ensigns and other ornaments, anchors, sails, and sixteen pieces of ordnance.  It bore a figure of Fortune, placed on a globe, with a flag in her hand.  Another salt was fashioned of silver, in form of a swan in full sail.  That chivalry might not be omitted amid this splendour, a silver Saint George was presented, mounted and equipped in the usual fashion in which he bestrides the dragon.  The figures were moulded to be in some sort useful.  The horse’s tail was managed to hold a case of knives, while the breast of the dragon presented a similar accommodation for oyster knives.

In the course of the passage from the hall of reception to the banqueting-room, and especially in the courtyard, the new-made knights were assailed by the heralds, pursuivants, minstrels, etc., with the usual cry of largesse, largesse, CHEVALIERS TRES HARDIS! an ancient invocation, intended to awaken the bounty of the acolytes of chivalry towards those whose business it was to register their armorial bearings, and celebrate the deeds by which they were illustrated.  The call was, of course, liberally and courteously answered by those to whom it was addressed.  Varney gave his largesse with an affectation of complaisance and humility.  Raleigh bestowed his with the graceful ease peculiar to one who has attained his own place, and is familiar with its dignity.  Honest Blount gave what his tailor had left him of his half-year’s rent, dropping some pieces in his hurry, then stooping down to look for them, and then distributing them amongst the various claimants, with the anxious face and mien of the parish beadle dividing a dole among paupers.

The donations were accepted with the usual clamour and VIVATS of applause common on such occasions; but as the parties gratified were chiefly dependants of Lord Leicester, it was Varney whose name was repeated with the loudest acclamations.  Lambourne, especially, distinguished himself by his vociferations of “Long life to Sir Richard Varney!—­Health and honour to Sir Richard!—­Never was a more worthy knight dubbed!”—­then, suddenly sinking his voice, he added—­“since the valiant Sir Pandarus of Troy,”—­a winding-up of his clamorous applause which set all men a-laughing who were within hearing of it.

It is unnecessary to say anything further of the festivities of the evening, which were so brilliant in themselves, and received with such obvious and willing satisfaction by the Queen, that Leicester retired to his own apartment with all the giddy raptures of successful ambition.  Varney, who had changed his splendid attire, and now waited on his patron in a very modest and plain undress, attended to do the honours of the Earl’s COUCHER.