The moral of this tale, I need not say, is, that there are many
disagreeable things in society which you are bound to take down, and to
do so with a smiling face.
CHAPTER II--THE SNOB ROYAL
Long since at the commencement of the reign of her present Gracious
Majesty, it chanced 'on a fair summer evening,' as Mr. James would say,
that three or four young cavaliers were drinking a cup of wine after
dinner at the hostelry called the 'King's Arms,' kept by Mistress
Anderson, in the royal village of Kensington. 'Twas a balmy evening,
and the wayfarers looked out on a cheerful scene. The tall elms of
the ancient gardens were in full leaf, and countless chariots of
the nobility of England whirled by to the neighbouring palace, where
princely Sussex (whose income latterly only allowed him to give
tea-parties) entertained his royal niece at a state banquet. When the
caroches of the nobles had set down their owners at the banquethall,
their varlets and servitors came to quaff a flagon of nut-brown ale in
the 'King's Arms' gardens hard by. We watched these fellows from our
lattice. By Saint Boniface 'twas a rare sight!
The tulips in Mynheer Van Dunck's gardens were not more gorgeous than
the liveries of these pie-coated retainers. All the flowers of the field
bloomed in their ruffled bosoms, all the hues of the rainbow gleamed
in their plush breeches, and the long-caned ones walked up and down the
garden with that charming solemnity, that delightful quivering swagger
of the calves, which has always had a frantic fascination for us.
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