CONTENTS
Mr. Lambkin having come into his property, enters the world upon the very best possible terms with himself, and makes his toilet to admiration.
Mr. Lambkin sallies forth in all the pride of power, with the secret and amiable intention of killing a certain Lady. Some envious rival makes known this deadly purpose, by means of a placard.
Mr. Lambkin with a snug Bachelor's party, enjoying his wine after a most luxurious "whitebait dinner," at Blackwall, and talking about his high connexions.
Mr. Lambkin suddenly feels rather poorly, someting in the "whitebait dinner," having disagreed with him; probably the "water souchy," or that confounded melted butter, (could'nt possibly have been the wine.) His friends endeavor to relieve him with little Drops of Brandy, and large doses of Soda Water.
Mr. Lambkin, having cut those Bachelor Parties, determines to seek the refined pleasures of Ladies' society. He, with the lady of his affections, joins a Pic-nic, endeavors to be exceedingly amusing, and succeeds in making himself "Very ridiculous."
Mr. Lambkin, at an evening party, being full of Life and Spirits (or, rather Wine,) gives great offence to the lady of his affections; by his Philanderings, and completely ruins his fortunes by dancing the Polka with such violence as to upset poor old John, the coffee, and indeed, the whole party.
Mr. Lambkin, overwhelmed with shame and vexation, resorts to Kensington Gardens in the hope of obtaining a meeting with the Lady of his affections—He burns with Rage, Jealousy, and revenge, on seeing her (in company with Miss Dash) holding sprightly converse with the Long Cornet —————— He feels himself literally cut.
After meditating desperate deeds of Duelling, Prussic Acid, Pistols, and Plunges in the River, Mr. Lambkin cools down to a quiet supper, a melancholy reverie, and a warm bath at the Hummums.—The morning sun shines upon him at Epsom, where, with the assistance of his friends and Champagne, he arrives at such a pitch of excitement, that he determines to live and die a Bachelor.
Mr. Lambkin of course visits all the Theatres and all the Saloons; he even makes his way to the Stage and the Green-room, and is so fortunate as to be introduced to some highly talented members of the Corps de Ballet.
Mr. Lambkin goes to a Masquerade as Don Giovanni, which character he supports to perfection. He falls into the company of certain Shepherdesses who shew the native simplicity of their Arcadian manners by drinking porter out of quart pewter mugs. They are delighted with the Don, who adds to the porter a quantity of Champagne, which they drink with the same degree of easy elegance as they do the Beer.
Mr. Lambkin and his friends, after supper at "the rooms," indulge in the usual nocturnal amusements of Gentlemen—the Police officiously interfere with their pastime—Mr. Lambkin after evincing the noble courage of a Lion, the strength of a Bull, the sagacity of a Fox, the stubbornness of a Donkey, and the activity of a Mountain Cat, is at length overcome by Policeman Smith, A. 1.
Mr. Lambkin and his friends cut a pretty figure in the morning before the Magistrate—their conduct is described as violent and outrageous, and their respectability is questioned—Mr. Lambkin and his friends insist upon being Gentlemen, and are of course discharged upon payment of 5s. each for being drunk—and making good the damage at the prices usually charged to Gentlemen.
Mr. Lambkin makes some most delightful acquaintance.—'The Hon. D. Swindelle and his delightful family, his Ma, such a delightful lady!—-and his Sisters, such delightful girls!!—Such delightful musical parties,—such delightful soirees, and such delightful card parties,—and what makes it all still more delightful is that they are all so highly delighted with Mr. Lambkin.
Mr. Lambkin in a moment of delightful delirium puts his name to some little bits of paper to oblige his very delightful friend the Hon. D. Swindelle, whom he afterwards discovers to be nothing more than a rascally Blackleg,—He is invited to visit some Chambers in one of the small Inns of Court, where he finds himself completely at the mercy of Messrs. Ogre and Nippers, whose demands make an awful hole in his Cheque-book.
Mr. Lambkin, finding that he has been variously and thoroughly befooled, foolishly dashes into dissipation to drown his distressful thoughts—He joins Jovial society and sings "The right end of Life is to live and be jolly!"
Mr. Lambkins's habits grow worse and worse!—At 3 o'clock a. m. he is placed upright (very jolly) against his own door, by a kind hearted Cabman.
Mr. Lambkin finds that he has been going rather too fast in the Pursuit of Pleasure and Amusement, and like all other Lads of Spirit when he can go no farther comes to a standstill.——— Being really very ill he sends for his Medical Friend who feels his pulse, shakes his head at his tongue, and of course prescribes the proper remedies.
Mr. Lambkin has to be nursed and to go through a regular course of medicine, taking many a bitter pill and requiring all the sweet persuasive powers of Mrs. Slops to take his "regular doses" of "that horrid nasty stuff."
Mr. Lambkin being tired of the old-fashioned regular practice, and being so fortunate as to live in the days when the real properties of Water are discovered, places himself under a Disciple of the immortal Priessnitz.
Mr. Lambkin buys a regular hard-trotter, and combines the health-restoring exercise of Riding with the very great advantages of Wet Swaddling clothes.
Mr. Lambkin's confidence in the curative powers of Hydropathy being very much damped, and being himself quite soaked through, in fact almost washed away, he takes to the good old-fashioned practice of walking early in the morning, and drinking "New Milk from the Cow."
Mr. Lambkin being quite recovered, with the aid of new milk and Sea Breezes, he determines to reform his habits, but feels buried alive in the Grand Mausoleum Club; and, contemplating an old bachelor member who sits pouring over the newspapers all day, he feels horrorstruck at the probability of such va fate becoming his own, and determines to seek a reconciliation with the Lady of his Affections.
Mr. Lambkin writes a letter of humiliation—The Lady answers—He seeks an interview.—It is granted.—He "hopes she'll forgive him this time"—The Lady appears resolute—He earnestly entreats her to "make it up"—At length the Lady softens—She lays aside her "cruel" work—ah! She weeps! Silly little thing what does she cry for?—Mr. Lambkin is forgiven! He skips for joy! Pa and Ma give their consent.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, unaccustomed is I am... (Bravo)... return... (Bravo) on the part of Miss... (oh! oh! ha! ha!) I beg pardon, I mean Mrs. Lambkin (Bravo) and myself for the great... hum... ha... hum... and kindness, (Bravo) In return hum... ha... pleasure to drink all your healths (Bravo)—wishing you all the happiness this world can afford (Bravo) I shall conclude in the words of our immortal bard—'may the single be married and the (hear! hear! hear! Bravo) married happy.'" Bravo! Bravo!! Bravo!!!
