1851.] The Congress and the Agapedome. 359
THE CONGRESS AND THE AGAPEDOME.
A TALE OF PEACE AND LOVE.
CHAPTER I.
If I were to commence my story
by stating, in the manner of the mili-
tary biographers, that Jack Wilkinson
was as brave a man as ever pushed a
bayonet into the brisket of a French-
man, I should be telling a confounded
lie, seeing that, to the best of my know-
ledge, Jack never had the opportunity
of attempting practical phlebotomy.
I shall content myself with describing
him as one of the finest and best-
hearted fellows that ever held her
Majesty's commission ; and no one
who is acquainted with the general
character of the officers of the British
army, will require a higher eulogium.
Jack and I were early cronies at
school; but we soon separated, having
been born under the influence of
different planets. Mars, who had
the charge of Jack, of course devoted
him to the army; Jupiter, who was
bound to look after my interests,
could find nothing better for me than
a situation in the Woods and Forests,
with a faint chance of becoming in
time a subordinate Commissioner
that is, provided the wrongs of Ann
Hicks do not precipitate the abolition
of the whole department. Ten years
elapsed before we met ; and I regret
to say that, during that interval,
neither of us had ascended many
rounds of the ladder of promotion.
As was most natural, I considered
my own case as peculiarly hard, and
yet Jack's was perhaps harder. He
had visited with his regiment, in the
course of duty, the Cape, the Ionian
Islands, Gibraltar, and the West
Indies. He had caught an ague in
Canada, and had been transplanted
to the north of Ireland by way of a
cure ; and yet he had not gained a
higher rank in the service than that
of Lieutenant. The fact is, that Jack
was poor, and his brother officers as
tough as though they had been made of
caoutchouc. Despite the varieties of
climate to which they were exposed,
not one of them would give up the
ghost ; even the old colonel, who had
been twice despaired of, recovered
from the yellow fever, and within a
week after was lapping his claret at
the mess-table as jollily as if nothing
had happened. The regiment had a
bad name in the service : they called
it, I believe, " the Immortals."
Jack Wilkinson, as I have said,
was poor, but he had an uncle who
was enormously rich. This uncle,
Mr Peter Pettigrew by name, was
an old bachelor and retired merchant,
not likely, according to the ordinary
calculation of chances, to marry; and
as he had no other near relative save
Jack, to whom, moreover, he was
sincerely attached, my friend was
generally regarded in the light of a
prospective proprietor, and might
doubtless, had he been so inclined,
have negotiated a loan, at or under
seventy per cent, with one of those
respectable gentlemen who are mak-
ing such violent efforts to abolish
Christian legislation. But Pettigrew
also was tough as one of " the Immor-
tals," and Jack was too prudent a
fellow to intrust himself to hands so
eminently accomplished in the art of
wringing the last drop of moisture
from a sponge. His uncle, he said,
had always behaved handsomely to
him, and he would see the whole tribe
of Issachar drowned in the Darda-
nelles rather than abuse his kindness
by raising money on a post-obit.
Pettigrew, indeed, had paid for his
commission, and, moreover, given him
a fair allowance whilst he was quar-
tered abroad circumstances which
rendered it extremely probable that
he would come forward to assist his
nephew so soon as the latter had any
prospect of purchasing his company.
Happening by accident to be in
Hull, where the regiment was quar-
tered, I encountered Wilkinson, whom
I found not a whit altered for the
worse, either in mind or body, since the
days when we were at school together ;
and at his instance I agreed to pro-
long my stay, and partake of the
