s,--it is by 'accepting the hundreds' that ours may be
finished too! [Ned drew a long sigh.] Note us now, Mr. Nabbem, in
the zenith of our prosperity,--we have filled our pockets, we have
become great in the mouths of our party. Our pals admire us, and
our blowens adore. What do we in this short-lived summer? Save and
be thrifty? Ah, no! we must give our dinners, and make light of our
lush. We sport horses on the race-course, and look big at the
multitude we have bubbled. Is not this your minister come into
office? Does not this remind you of his equipage, his palace, his
plate? In both cases lightly won, lavishly wasted; and the public,
whose cash we have fingered, may at least have the pleasure of
gaping at the figure we make with it! This, then, is our harvest of
happiness; our foes, our friends, are ready to eat us with envy,--
yet what is so little enviable as our station? Have we not both our
common vexations and our mutual disquietudes? Do we not both bribe
[Nabbem shook his head and buttoned his waistcoat] our enemies,
cajole our partisans, bully our dependants, and quarrel with our
only friends,--namely, ourselves? Is not the secret question with
each, 'It is all confoundedly fine; but how long will it last?'
Now, Mr. Nabbem, note me,--reverse the portrait: we are fallen, our
career is over,--the road is shut to us, and new plunderers are
robbing the carriages that once we robbed. Is not this the lot of--
No, no! I deceive myself! Your ministers, your jobmen, for the
most part milk the popular cow while there's a drop in the udder.
Your chancellor declines on a pension; your minister attenuates on a
grant; the feet of your great rogues may be gone from the treasury
benches, but they have their little fingers in the treasury. Their
past services are remembered by his Majesty; ours only noted by the
Recorder. They save themselves, for they hang by one another; we go
to the devil, for we hang by ourselves. We have our little day of
the public, and all is over; but it is never over with them. We
both hunt the same fox; but we are your fair riders, they are your
knowing ones,--we take the leap, and our necks are broken; they
sneak through the gates, and keep it up to the last!"

As he concluded, Tomlinson's head dropped on his bosom, a