wed great pluck, and wanted me to try again; but "No," says I, "I
HAVE been."

THE FINISHING TOUCH.

I was always fond of billiards: and, in former days, at Grogram's in
Greek Street, where a few jolly lads of my acquaintance used to meet
twice a week for a game, and a snug pipe and beer, I was generally voted
the first man of the club; and could take five from John the marker
himself. I had a genius, in fact, for the game; and now that I was
placed in that station of life where I could cultivate my talents,
I gave them full play, and improved amazingly. I do say that I think
myself as good a hand as any chap in England.

The Count and his Excellency Baron von Punter were, I can tell you,
astonished by the smartness of my play: the first two or three rubbers
Punter beat me, but when I came to know his game, I used to knock him
all to sticks; or, at least, win six games to his four: and such was the
betting upon me; his Excellency losing large sums to the Count, who knew
what play was, and used to back me. I did not play except for shillings,
so my skill was of no great service to me.

One day I entered the billiard-room where these three gentlemen were
high in words. "The thing shall not be done," I heard Captain Tagrag
say: "I won't stand it."

"Vat, begause you would have de bird all to yourzelf, hey?" said the
Baron.

"You sall not have a single fezare of him, begar," said the Count: "ve
vill blow you, M. de Taguerague; parole d'honneur, ve vill."

"What's all this, gents," says I, stepping in, "about birds and
feathers?"

"Oh," says Tagrag, "we were talking about--about--pigeon-shooting; the
Count here says he will blow a bird all to pieces at twenty yards, and I
said I wouldn't stand it, because it was regular murder."

"Oh, yase, it was bidgeon-shooting," cries the Baron: "and I know no
better sbort. Have you been bidgeon-shooting, my dear Squire? De fon is
gabidal."

"No doubt," says I, "for the shooters, but mighty bad sport for the
PIGEON." And this joke set them all a-laughing ready to die. I didn't
know then what a good joke it WAS, neither; but I gave Master Baron,
that day, a precious good beating, and walked off with no less than
fifteen shillings of his money.

As a sporting man, and a man of fashion, I need not say that I took
in the Flare-up regularly; ay, and wrote one or two trifles in that
celebrated publication (one of my papers, which Tagrag subscribed for
me, Philo-pestitiaeamic