Bingley was great in William.

Goll, as the Admiral, looked like the figure-head of a seventy-four; and Garbetts, as Captain Boldweather, a miscreant who forms a plan for carrying off Black-eyed Susan, and waving an immense cocked hat says, "Come what may, he will be the ruin of her"-- all these performed their parts with their accustomed talent; and it was with a sincere regret that all our friends saw the curtain drop down and end that pretty and tender story.
If Pen had been alone with his mother in the carriage as they went home, he would have told her all, that night; but he sate on the box in the moonshine smoking a cigar by the side of Smirke, who warmed himself with a comforter.

Mr.Foker's tandem and lamps whirled by the sober old Clavering posters as they were a couple of miles on their road home, and Mr.Spavin saluted Mrs.Pendennis's carriage with some considerable variations of Rule Britannia on the key-bugle.
It happened two days after the above gaieties that Mr.Dean of Chatteris entertained a few select clerical friends at dinner at his Deanery Home.
That they drank uncommonly good port wine, and abused the Bishop over their dessert, are very likely matters: but with such we have nothing at present to do.

Our friend Doctor Portman, of Clavering, was one of the Dean's guests, and being a gallant man, and seeing from his place at the mahogany the Dean's lady walking up and down the grass, with her children sporting around her, and her pink parasol over her lovely head--the Doctor stept out of the French windows of the dining-room into the lawn, which skirts that apartment, and left the other white neckcloths to gird at my lord Bishop.

Then the Doctor went up and offered Mrs.Dean his arm, and they sauntered over the ancient velvet lawn, which had been mowed and rolled for immemorial Deans, in that easy, quiet, comfortable manner, in which people of middle age and good temper walk after a good dinner, in a calm golden summer evening, when the sun has but just sunk behind the enormous cathedral-towers, and the sickle-shaped moon is growing every instant brighter in the heavens.
Now at the end of the Dean's garden there is, as we have stated, Mrs.
Creed's house, and the windows of the first-floor room were open to admit the pleasant summer air.