ated the lawyer. "Why, brother Nicholas! brother Nicholas!"

Nicholas, who had nearly slept off the effects of the wine, answered with
an unintelligible sort of growling.

"Brother Nicholas, I say,--brother Nicholas,--will you get up, or lie here
all night?"

"They shall be cleaned and ready by to-morrow morning," replied Nicholas,
dreaming.

"Humph! that's more than you will be, apparently,--I say, brother
Nicholas."

"Yes, brother," replied Nicholas, raising his head and staring at the
candle. "Why, what's the matter?"

"The matter is, that I wish to go to bed, and wish to see you in bed before
I go myself."

"Yes, brother John, if you please, certainly. Where's my bed? I do believe
I have been asleep."

"Humph! I have no doubt upon the subject," replied John Forster, lighting
another candle. "Come this way, brother Nicholas," and they both ascended
the stairs.

When Mr John Forster arrived at the door of his own room, on the first
storey, he stopped. "Now, brother Nicholas, are you quite awake? Do you
think that I may trust you with the candle?"

"I should hope so," replied Nicholas; "I see that it is silver, but I hope
I'm honest, brother John."

"Humph! I mean, can I trust you to put it out?"

"Yes, I think that you may. Pray, which is my room?"

"The first door on the left, when you are at the top of the stairs."

"The first door."

"Yes, the first on the left; do you understand?"

"Yes, brother, I do; the first door on the left."

"Very well; then I wish you a good-night."

"Good-night, brother," replied Nicholas, ascending the stairs as John
Forster entered his room.

Nicholas arrived at the head of the stairs; but his brain was not very
clear. He muttered to himself "I think I'm right--yes, I'm right--the first
door--to the right--yes--that's it;" and instead of the room to the left,
where Newton was, he walked into the one to the right, which appertained to
the housekeeper, Mrs Smith.

The old lady was fast asleep. Nicholas threw off his clothes, put out his
candle, and stepped into bed without waking the old lady, whom he supposed
to be his son, and in a few minutes they snored in concert.

The morning dawned. The watchmen (London nightingales) ceased their notes
and retired to their beds. The chimney-sweeps (larks of the metropolis)
raised their shrill cry as they paced along with chattering teeth.
Housemaids and kitchen-maids presented their back views to the early
passengers as