It now wanted but three days to Mrs. Fungus’s fete champetre, to which the Markwell family had received individual cards of invitation; but as it was a species of amusement dissonant to the principles of Dr. Markwell, and not agreeable to his wife, it was agreed Rosa should return an excuse, to elude suspicion, and go incog, under the protection of my uncle and self; but what character to assume was the puzzle, for either as ballad-singer, or minstrel, she would instantly be discovered; it was therefore agreed, after much discussion, she and my uncle should go as “Sterne and Maria,” precisely habited in costume, whilst I dressed in Alice’s old clothes, determined to enjoy a little sport as an old gypsey fortune-teller, my uncle having promised to furnish me with a private tablet of the dresses of each parties I most wished to torment, which by going half an hour previous to my entrance, and enclosing the list in a small purse, as a reward for my occult abilities, would have it amply in his power to accomplish; and further to carry on the joke, I proposed sending to London for false noses, to wear during supper.

This was a scheme highly approved by my uncle; Rosa and Mrs. Markwell undertook the superintendance of my habiliment, and her own, while the Rector furnished my uncle with a bushy white wig, cocked hat, and cane, which was all the character required, subjoined to a black suit.

On the evening preceding the fete, while Alice and the house-keeper were patching and gypsyeizing a ragged gown and petticoat, to render me appropriate, in bounced Dr. Tonic, red hot with village news of the intended characters he had been able to collect, a piece of intelligence very acceptable to me.

“So,” cried he, “the whole village is in a bustle; I understand there won’t be an unmasked face at the supper, except the hostess, and her daughter; it’s a d—d good plan; we shall have rare fun, my girls are half mad—Mrs. Tonic goes as a blind woman, and my son Bob’s wife is to lead her as a beggar-girl—Elizetta a ballad-singer—Georgiana a flower-girl—Bob, as a noisy watchman, for it’s easy enough to cry the hour.”

“Yes,” replied my uncle, “he can’t have any great task in doing that.”

“Why, you know, squire,” rejoined the Doctor, “we country Puts don’t understand masquerading like you Londoners; we have therefore but little inclination to expose our deficiencies on the score of witticism: for my part, I have not fixed upon any character yet—how do you mean to go?”

“Perhaps as Dr. Slop,” answered my uncle.

“Egad!” exclaimed Tonic, “that character will exactly suit me—I’ll go home and study it directly—it’s the very thing—but have you heard of Lady Lustre’s intention? she means to go as Charity, with Dame Margery’s three little brats, on a plan of beneficence; she’s a wonderful strange woman; then, again, let me consider; I can tell you half the characters in the parish; Major Pea-Chick goes as a sultan; Mrs. Deposit, a sultana; Lady Flam, a virgin of the sun; Mrs. Macfriz, a chair-woman; Mr. Windfall, a sweep; Mr. Prolix, the devil on two sticks; his wife, a quaker; Mr. Deposit, an old clothes man; Mr. Faddle, a tiddy-dol, with hot plumb-pudding; widow Quiz, a cabbage-woman; Mr. Undermine, a mole-skin dress; and, his son Simon, a Patagonian goose; Mr. Consequence, a common-councilman; Mrs. Coniac, a bar-maid; Mr. Coniac, Jerry Sneak; Mrs. Downright, a landlady; Mr. Strut, two faces under one hat, and his coat turned wrongside outwards; Mr. Downright, an old woman; Mrs. Wau-Wau, a house-maid, with mop and pail; Miss Bleary, a lady doll-snip; Mrs. Henpeck, in male attire, as a slave driver with her husband in chains; Mrs. Dashwell, as nobody; Mr. Dashwell, as a dust-man.”

“Are you correct in your information?” asked my uncle.

“O yes, perfectly,” answered the Doctor; “there are various other characters which I don’t immediately recollect—but of these I am positive: but for the soul of me I can’t find out Munchausen, though I hear he has sent to London for some particular habit; he’ll be the life of the cause—but how shall you go, hey, Mr. Victor? every body’s dying to know your character.”

“Then, tell them I go an Achilles in complete armour.”

“But where did you get it from?” asked the credulous Doctor.

“A friend has furnished me.”

“The Markwells are not to be there, I understand,” resumed old Tonic; “every body thought Miss Fitzclarence would at least have represented Venus—by the bye, it’s a bit of a hoax upon us, for she was fully expected—it’s a devilish disappointment to Mrs. Fungus—I wonder what’s the reason—some say she did’nt choose to hide her pretty face, others assert she was not competent to support a character.”

“And I’ll bet a wager both suggestions are erroneous,” cried my uncle, “particularly the latter.”

“You are partial,” answered the Doctor; “we make no phenomenon of her in our family, as you do—you absolutely magnify the very atoms of merit into enormous objects of admiration.”

“And you, by peering at them through the diminishing optics of envy, imagine them lessened in proportion to your wishes; but, recollect, Doctor, it is not every body sees with the black eyes you do,” replied my uncle.

“Poh!” cried Tonic, “I allow her to be a very fine girl, handsome, accomplished, rich, and so forth: but, like most people, possessed of those endowments, she knows it, for she carries her head high enough to my daughters; she’s not familiar enough to please them.”

“Overfamiliarity is truly contemptuous,” said my uncle; “a modest, elegant, degree of reserve is so much more fascinating, that I don’t wonder a young lady brought up in the refined style Miss Fitzclarence has been educated, should not suit your daughters’ ideas; a common village education, and a continental one in the bosom of science, and the school of genius, must form pupils of as different a class as St. Giles’s and St. James’s.”

“I don’t see that,” returned the Doctor, highly piqued—“good day, good day, Mr. Achilles, we shall look sharp for you to-morrow.”

“Aye, look sharp, and be sharp, is the order of masquerading, and Victor won’t be deficient, I’m sure,” said my uncle.

Away went the Doctor; and highly elate at the discovery I had made of the various characters, we augured much amusement from our intended quiz, not doubting we should hear a pretty budget of village skits, at the expense of Rosa and ourselves, which was, in fact, the sole motive of our attendance, as my uncle most heartily despised Mrs. Fungus’s principles, which he was now willing to put to the test, as the only opportunity of obtaining their genuine knowledge.