way to friendship. Even though numberless lovers
might fall from the Whispering Gallery in a confused heap of mangled
bodies, he must still tread the path which was open to him. These
were his principles, and he could not abandon them even for the sake
of Tribbledale. "Nor would I have you," shouted Tribbledale, leaning
out over the door of the cab. "I would not delay you not for a
day, not for an hour. Were to-morrow to be your bridal morning it
would find me prepared. My only request to you is that a boy might
be called Daniel after me. You might tell her it was an uncle
or grandfather. She would never think that in her own child was
perpetuated a monument of poor Daniel Tribbledale." Crocker, as he
jumped out of the cab with a light step in front of the Paphian Hall,
promised that in this particular he would attend to the wishes of his
friend.

The performances at the Paphian Hall on that festive occasion need
not be described here with accuracy. The New Year had been seen well
in with music, dancing, and wine. The seeing of it in was continued
yet for an hour, till an indulgent policeman was forced to interfere.
It is believed that on the final ejection of our two friends, the
forlorn lover, kept steady, no doubt, by the weight of his woe, did
find his way home to his own lodgings. The exultant Crocker was less
fortunate, and passed his night without the accommodation of sheets
and blankets somewhere in the neighbourhood of Bow Street. The fact
is important to us, as it threatened to have considerable effect upon
our friend's position at his office. Having been locked up in a cell
during the night, and kept in durance till he was brought on the
following morning before a magistrate, he could not well be in his
room at ten o'clock. Indeed when he did escape from the hands of the
Philistines, at about two in the day, sick, unwashed and unfed, he
thought it better to remain away altogether for that day. The great
sin of total absence would be better than making an appearance before
Mr. Jerningham in his present tell-tale condition. He well knew his
own strength and his own weakness. All power of repartee would be
gone from him for the day. Mr. Jerningham would domineer over him,
and Aeolus, should the violent god be pleased to send for him, would
at once annihilate him. So he sneaked home to Gower Street, took a
hair of the dog that bit him, and then got the old woman who looked
after him to make him some tea and to