inferred that nearly, if not all the visitors, upon entering Vauxhall Gardens, had drank of the waters of Lethe, for everything else seems to be forgotten on joining this enchanting scene: however, I can speak for myself in this respect.” “Excellently well defined, Tom,” replied Logic. “To me, Vauxhall is the festival of Love and Harmony, and produces a most happy mixture of society. There is no precision about it, and every person can be accommodated, however substantial, or light and airy their palates. If eating, my dear Jerry, is the object in view, you will perceive tables laid out in every box, and the order is only wanted by the waiter instantly to gratify the appetite. If drinking, the punch is so prime, and immediately follows the call, that it will soon make you as lively as a harlequin. If inclined to waltz or to reel, partners can be procured without the formality of a master of the ceremonies. If you are fond of singing, the notes of that ever-green, Mrs. Bland, never fail to touch the heart. If attached to music, the able performers in the orchestra, the Pandean minstrels, and regimental bands, in various parts of the gardens, prove quite a treat. If promenading is your forte, you will find illuminated walks of the most interesting and animated description. Numerous persons of the highest quality: myriads of lovely females, with gaiety beaming upon every countenance; and the pleasure of meeting with old friends and acquaintances, render the tout ensemble impressively elegant and fascinating. Even the connoisseur in paintings may find subjects at Vauxhall too rich to be passed over in haste. In short, there is such an endless variety of amusements, in rapid succession, from the song to the dance—from refreshment to the glass—from the cascade to the fireworks, that time positively flies in these Gardens. Reflection is not admitted; and the senses are all upon the alert. You may be as extravagant as you please, or you need not spend a single farthing, if economy is your object, and not be found fault with neither. If you like it so best,” continued the Oxonian, smiling, “you may be as gay as a dancing-master, and enter into all the fun and frolic by which you are surrounded; or you can be as decorous as a parson in his pulpit, and be nothing more than a common observer. But if enjoyment is your motto, you may make the most of an evening in these Gardens more than at any other place in the Metropolis. It is all free and easy—stay as long as you like, and depart when you think proper.” “Your description is so flattering,” replied Jerry, “that I do not care how soon the time arrives for us to start.” Logic proposed a “bit of a stroll,” in order to get rid of an hour or two, which was immediately accepted by Tom and Jerry. A turn or two in Bond Street—a stroll through Piccadilly—a “look in” at Tattersall’s—a ramble through Pall Mall—and a strut on the Corinthian Path, fully occupied the time of our heroes till the hour for dinner arrived, when a few glasses of Tom’s rich wines soon put them on the qui vive; Vauxhall was then the object in view, and the Trio started, bent upon enjoying all the pleasures which this place so amply affords to its visitors.

“It is really delightful,” exclaimed Jerry, on his entering the Gardens, during the first act of the concert; “I was, on my first visit, enraptured with Sydney Gardens, at Bath; but, I must confess, that the brilliancy of this scene is so superior that it appears to me like a New World, and you have not, my friends, overrated it.”

Hawthorn, under the guidance of his pals, was not long in exploring the illuminated walks, the rotunda, and everything belonging to this fashionable place of resort. Our hero was in high spirits; Logic was also ripe for a spree; and the Corinthian so agreeable in disposition, that he made known to his two friends he was ready to accommodate them in any proposition they might feel inclined to make. Jerry expressed himself much pleased with the arrangement and performance of the concert; and he likewise observed, the music of the songs reflected considerable credit on the talents of the composer.[26] On passing through the rooms attached to the rotunda, in which the paintings of Hogarth and Hayman[27] are exhibited, and also the portraits of the late King and Queen, on their coming to the throne, Jerry, with a smile, retorted upon Logic, “that those paintings certainly could not be passed over in haste, if the proprietors of the Gardens thought catalogues were not necessary, it would, however, prove much more pleasing to the visitors if a few lines were painted under them, by way of explanation.” “I must agree with your remarks,” replied Logic; “no visitor ought to be suffered to remain in the dark on any subject amidst such a blaze of illumination. Never mind criticising any more about these pictures; let us retire to a nice little box, for I assure you my ogles have feasted enough, and I stand in need of much more substantial refreshment. Some burnt-wine, ham shavings,[28] chickens, sherry, and a lively drop of arrack-punch, my boys, will enable us to finish the evening like trumps.” “A good proposition,” cried Tom. “It is,” said Jerry; “and I second it.” The Trio immediately left the gay scene, for a short period, to partake of all the choice articles which the larder could produce to please their palates. The bottle was not suffered to stand still by our heroes, and the punch also moved off with great facility, till the lively military band invited them once more to join the merry dance, when Logic, full of fun and laughter, said, “he was now able to reel with any lady or gentleman in the Gardens.” “Yes,” replied Tom, laughing heartily, “I’ll back you on that score, Bob; but not to dance.” The elegant appearance and address of the Corinthian soon procured him lots of dashing partners: Jerry was not behind his Coz in that respect; and the agility both our heroes displayed on the “light fantastic toe” attracted numerous gazers. Logic, who was