Which Tells How Barnabas Triumphed in Spite of All

Never had White's, that historic club, gathered beneath its roof a
more distinguished company; dukes, royal and otherwise, elbow each
other on the stairs; earls and marquises sit cheek by jowl;
viscounts and baronets exchange snuff-boxes in corners, but one and
all take due and reverent heed of the flattened revers and the
innovation of the riband.

Yes, White's is full to overflowing for, to-night, half the
Fashionable World is here, that is to say, the masculine half; beaux
and wits; bucks and Corinthians; dandies and macaronis; all are here
and, each and every, with the fixed and unshakable purpose of eating
and drinking to the glory and honor of Barnabas Beverley, Esquire.
Here, also, is a certain "Mr. Norton," whom Barnabas immediately
recognizes by reason of his waistcoat and his whiskers. And Mr. Norton
is particularly affable and is graciously pleased to commend the
aforesaid flattened revers and riband; indeed so taken with them
is he, that he keeps their wearer beside him, and even condescends
to lean upon his arm as far as the dining-room.

Forthwith the banquet begins and the air hums with talk and laughter
punctuated by the popping of corks; waiters hurry to and fro, dishes
come and dishes vanish, and ever the laughter grows, and the buzz of
talk swells louder.

And Barnabas? Himself "the glass of fashion and the mould of form,"
in very truth "the observed of all observers," surely to-night he
should be happy! For the soaring pinions of youth have borne him up
and up at last, into the empyrean, far, far above the commonplace;
the "Coursing Hound," with its faded sign and weatherbeaten gables,
has been lost to view long and long ago (if it ever really existed),
and to-night he stands above the clouds, his foot upon the topmost
pinnacle; and surely man can attain no higher, for to-night he feasts
with princes.