to wit, the worthy student, Ambrose Gray, in a very
respectable state of intoxication, made his appearance, charged
with drunkenness, riot, and a blushing reluctance to pay his tavern
reckoning. Mr. Gray was dragged in at very little expense of ceremony,
it must be confessed, but with some prospective damage to his tailor,
his clothes having received considerable abrasions in the scuffle, as
well as his complexion, which was beautifully variegated with tints of
black, blue, and yellow.

"Well, Mr. Gray," said Darby, "back once more I see? Why, you couldn't
live without us, I think. What's this now?"

"A deficiency of assets, most potent," replied Gray, with a
hiccough--"unable to meet a rascally tavern reckoning;" and as Mr.
Gray spoke he thrust his tongue into his cheek, intimating by this
significant act his high respect for Mr. Darby.

"You had better remember, sir, that you are addressing the senior
officer here," said the latter, highly offended.

"Most potent, grave, and reverend senior, I don't forget it; nor that
the grand senior can become a most gentlemanly ruffian whenever he
chooses. No, senior, I respect your ruffianship, and your ruffianship
ought to respect me; for well you wot that many a time before now I've
greased that absorbing palm of yours."

"Ah," replied Darby, "the hemp is grown for you, and the rope is
purchased that will soon be greased for your last tug. Why didn't you
pay your bill, I say?"

"I told you before, most potent, that that fact originated in a
deficiency of assets."

"I rather think, Mr. Gray," said Darby, "that it originated in a very
different kind of deficiency--a deficiency of inclination, my buck."

"In both, most reverend senior, and I act on scriptural principles; for
what does Job say? 'Base is the slave that patient pays.'"

"Well, my good fellow, if you don't pay, you'll be apt to receive, some
fine day, that's all," and here he made a motion with his arm, as if
he were administering the cat-o'-nine-tails; "however, this is not my
business. Here comes Mrs. Mulroony to make her charge. I accordingly
shove you over to Ned Nightcap, the officer for the night."

"Ah!" exclaimed Gray, "I see, most potent, you have operated before.
Kow-de-dow-de-dow, my boy. There was a professional touch in that jerk
that couldn't be mistaken: that quiver at the wrist was beautiful, and
the position of the arm a perfect triangle. It must have been quite a
pleasure to have suffered