“La!” exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; “I vow this is refreshing.  Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?”

Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me.  A great orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or swept around in circles.  These were filled with people of all sorts and conditions, supping and making merry.  Other people were sauntering under the trees, keeping step with the music.  Lamps of white and blue and red and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in stars and crescents upon the buildings.

“Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin.”

         “’O Patty!  Soft in feature,
          I’ve been at dear Vauxhall;
          No paradise is sweeter,
          Not that they Eden call.’”

whispered Dolly, paraphrasing.

At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the brothers, proprietors of the gardens.  He was a very lively young fellow who seemed to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk about a little before being shown to the boxes reserved for us.

“They are on the right side, Mr. Tyers?” demanded Mr. Storer.

“Oh, to be sure, sir.  Your man was most particular to stipulate the pink and blue flowered brocades, next the Prince of Wales’s.”

“But you must have the band stop that piece, Mr. Tyers,” cried Lady Sarah.  “I declare, it is too much for my nerves.  Let them play Dibbin’s Ephesian Matron.”

“As your Ladyship wishes,” responded the obliging Mr. Tyers, and sent off an uniformed warder to the band-master.

As he led us into the Rotunda, my Lady Dolly, being in one of her whimsical humours, began to recite in the manner of the guide-book, to the vast diversion of our party and the honest citizens gaping at us.

“This, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen,” says the minx, “is that marvellous Rotunda commonly known as the ‘umbrella,’ where the music plays on wet nights, and where we have our masquerades and ridottos.  Their Royal Highnesses are very commonly seen here on such occasions.  As you see, it is decorated with mirrors and scenes and busts, and with gilded festoons.  That picture was painted by the famous Hogarth.  The organ in the orchestra cost—­you must supply the figure, Mr. Tyers,—­and the ceiling is at least two hundred feet high.  Gentlemen from the colonies and the country take notice.”

By this time we were surrounded.  Mr. Marmaduke was scandalized and crushed, but Mr. Tyers, used to the vagaries of his fashionable patrons, was wholly convulsed.