Vanity Fair (illustrated)

And, now having her new friend to herself, the impetuous Mrs: O’Dowd proceeded to pour out such a quantity of information as no poor little woman’s memory could ever tax itself to bear. She told Amelia a thousand particulars relative to the very numerous family of which the amazed young lady found herself a member. “Mrs. Heavytop, the Colonel’s wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart comboined, for the horrud old Colonel, with a head as bald as a cannon-ball, was making sheep’s eyes at a half-caste girl there. Mrs. Magenis, though without education, was a good woman, but she had the divvle’s tongue, and would cheat her own mother at whist. Mrs. Captain Kirk must turn up her lobster eyes forsooth at the idea of an honest round game (wherein me fawther, as pious a man as ever went to church, me uncle Dane Malony, and our cousin the Bishop, took a hand at loo, or whist, every night of their lives). Nayther of ’em’s goin’ with the regiment this time,” Mrs. O’Dowd added. “Fanny Magenis stops with her mother, who sells small coal and potatoes, most likely, in Islington-town, hard by London, though she’s always bragging of her father’s ships, and pointing them out to us as they go up the river: and Mrs. Kirk and her children will stop here in Bethesda Place, to be nigh to her favourite preacher, Dr. Ramshorn. Mrs. Bunny’s in an interesting situation - faith, and she always is, then - and has given the Lieutenant seven already. And Ensign Posky’s wife, who joined two months before you, my dear, has quarl’d with Tom Posky a score of times, till you can hear’m all over the bar’ck (they say they’re come to broken pleets, and Tom never accounted for his black oi), and she’ll go back to her mother, who keeps a ladies’ siminary at Richmond - bad luck to her for running away from it! Where did ye get your finishing, my dear? I had moin, and no expince spared, at Madame Flanahan’s, at Ilyssus Grove, Booterstown, near Dublin, wid a Marchioness to teach us the true Parisian pronunciation, and a retired Mejor-General of the French service to put us through the exercise.”

Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself all of a sudden a member: with Mrs. O’Dowd as an elder sister. She was presented to her other female relations at tea-time, on whom, as she was quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made rather an agreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen from the mess of the 150th, who all admired her so, that her sisters began, of course, to find fault with her.

“I hope Osborne has sown his wild oats,” said Mrs. Magenis to Mrs. Bunny. “If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure it’s she will have the fine chance with Garge,” Mrs. O’Dowd remarked to Posky, who had lost her position as bride in the regiment, and was quite angry with the usurper. And as for Mrs. Kirk: that disciple of Dr. Ramshorn put one or two leading professional questions to Amelia, to see whether she was awakened, whether she was a professing Christian and so forth, and finding from the simplicity of Mrs. Osborne’s replies that she was yet in utter darkness, put into her hands three little penny books with pictures, viz., the “Howling Wilderness,” the “Washerwoman of Wandsworth Common,” and the “British Soldier’s best Bayonet,” which, bent upon awakening her before she slept, Mrs. Kirk begged Amelia to read that night ere she went to bed.

But all the men, like good fellows as they were, rallied round their comrade’s pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly gallantry. She had a little triumph, which flushed her spirits and made her eyes sparkle. George was proud of her popularity, and pleased with the manner (which was very gay and graceful, though naive and a little timid) with which she received the gentlemen’s attentions, and answered their compliments. And he in his uniform - how much handsomer he was than any man in the room! She felt that he was affectionately watching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness. “I will make all his friends welcome,” she resolved in her heart. “I will love all as I love him. I will always try and be gay and good-humoured and make his home happy.”

The regiment indeed adopted her with acclamation. The Captains approved, the Lieutenants applauded, the Ensigns admired. Old Cutler, the Doctor, made one or two jokes, which, being professional, need not be repeated; and Cackle, the Assistant M.D. of Edinburgh, condescended to examine her upon leeterature, and tried her with his three best French quotations. Young Stubble went about from man to man whispering, “Jove, isn’t she a pretty gal?” and never took his eyes off her except when the negus came in.