ir, in my wandering and
various manner of life, I may say, with Cicero and Pliny, that the study
of letters has proved my greatest consolation. 'Gaudium mihi,' says the
latter author, 'et solatium in literis: nihil tam laete quod his non
laetius, nihil tam triste quid non per hos sit minus triste.' God d--n
ye, you scoundrel, give me my gin! ar'n't you ashamed of keeping a
gentleman of my fashion so long waiting?" This was said to the sleepy
dispenser of the spirituous potations, who looked up for a moment with a
dull stare, and then replied, "Your money first, Mr. Gordon--you owe us
seven-pence halfpenny already."

"Blood and confusion! speakest thou to me of halfpence! Know that thou
art a mercenary varlet; yes, knave, mark that, a mercenary varlet." The
sleepy Ganymede replied not, and the wrath of Mr. Gordon subsided into a
low, interrupted, internal muttering of strange oaths, which rolled and
grumbled, and rattled in his throat, like distant thunder.

At length he cheered up a little--"Sir," said he, addressing Dartmore,
"it is a sad thing to be dependant on these low persons; the wise among
the ancients were never so wrong as when they panegyrized poverty: it
is the wicked man's tempter, the good man's perdition, the proud man's
curse, the melancholy man's halter."

"You are a strange old cock," said the unsophisticated Dartmore, eyeing
him from head to foot; "there's half a sovereign for you."

The blunt blue eyes of Mr. Gordon sharpened up in an instant; he seized
the treasure with an avidity, of which the minute after, he seemed
somewhat ashamed; for he said, playing with the coin, in an idle,
indifferent manner--"Sir, you show a consideration, and, let me add,
Sir, a delicacy of feeling, unusual at your years. Sir, I shall repay
you at my earliest leisure, and in the meanwhile allow me to say, that I
shall be proud of the honour of your acquaintance."

"Thank-ye, old boy," said Dartmore, putting on his glove before he
accepted the offered hand of his new friend, which, though it was
tendered with great grace and dignity, was of a marvellously dingy and
soapless aspect.

"Harkye! you d--d son of a gun!" cried Mr. Gordon, abruptly turning
from Dartmore, after a hearty shake of the hand, to the man at the
counter--"Harkye! give me change for this half sovereign, and be d--d
to you--and then tip us a double gill of your best; you whey-faced,
liverdrenched, pence-griping, belly-griping, paupercheating,
slee