But there was one step in Mr. Titmouse's upward progress which he presently took, and which is worthy of special mention; I mean his presentation at court by the Earl of Dreddlington. The necessity for such a move was explained to Titmouse by his illustrious kinsman, a day or two after the appearance of the ordinary official announcement of the next levee. This momentous affair was broached by the earl, one day after dinner, with an air of almost mysterious anxiety and interest. Had, indeed, that stately and solemn old simpleton been instructing his gaping protégé, in the minutely-awful etiquettes requisite for the due discharge of his duties, as an ambassador sent upon a delicate and embarrassing mission to the court of his Sacred Majesty the King of Sulkypunctilio, he could not have appeared more penetrated by a sense of the responsibility he was incurring. He commenced by giving Titmouse a very long history of the origin and progress of such ceremonies, and a minute account of the practical manner of their observance, all of which, however, was to Titmouse only like breathing upon a mirror--passing as quickly out of one ear as it had entered into the other. When, however, the earl came to the point of dress, Titmouse was indeed "a thing all ear, all eye," his little faculties being stimulated to their utmost. The next morning he hurried off to his tailor, to order a court dress. When it had been brought home for trial, and he had put it on, upon returning to his room in his new and imposing costume, and glancing at his figure in the glass, his face fell; and he felt infinitely disappointed. It is to be remembered in candor, however, that he had not on lace ruffles at his coat-cuffs, nor on his shirt-front. After gazing at himself for a few moments in silence, he suddenly snapped his fingers, and exclaimed to the tailor, who, with the valet, was standing beside him, "Curse me if I like this thing at all!"
"Not like it, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Clipclose, with astonishment.
"No, I don't, demme! Is _this_ a court dress? It's a quaker's made into a footman's! 'Pon my soul, I look the exact image of a footman; and a devilish vulgar one too!" The two individuals beside him turned suddenly away--looking in different directions--and from their noses there issued the sounds of ill-suppressed laughter.