drowsy voice that he called for
a cup of cold small beer. His manner and appearance were those of a man
who had wrestled hard with Bacchus on the preceding evening, and had
scarce recovered the effects of his contest with the jolly god.
Lance, instructed by his master to watch the motions of the courtier,
officiously attended with the cooling beverage he called for, pleading,
as an excuse to the landlord, his wish to see a Londoner in his
morning-gown and cap.

No sooner had Chiffinch taken his morning draught, than he inquired
after Lord Saville.

"His lordship was mounted and away by peep of dawn," was Lance's reply.

"What the devil!" exclaimed Chiffinch; "why, this is scarce
civil.--What! off for the races with his whole retinue?"

"All but one," replied Lance, "whom his lordship sent back to London
with letters."

"To London with letters!" said Chiffinch. "Why, I am for London, and
could have saved his express a labour.--But stop--hold--I begin to
recollect--d----n, can I have blabbed?--I have--I have--I remember it
all now--I have blabbed; and to the very weasel of the Court, who sucks
the yelk out of every man's secret. Furies and fire--that my afternoons
should ruin my mornings thus!--I must turn boon companion and good
fellow in my cups--and have my confidences and my quarrels--my friends
and my enemies, with a plague to me, as if any one could do a man much
good or harm but his own self. His messenger must be stopped, though--I
will put a spoke in his wheel.--Hark ye, drawer-fellow--call my groom
hither--call Tom Beacon."

Lance obeyed; but failed not, when he had introduced the domestic, to
remain in the apartment, in order to hear what should pass betwixt him
and his master.

"Hark ye, Tom," said Chiffinch, "here are five pieces for you."

"What's to be done now, I trow?" said Tom, without even the ceremony of
returning thanks, which he was probably well aware would not be received
even in part payment of the debt he was incurring.

"Mount your fleet nag, Tom--ride like the devil--overtake the groom whom
Lord Saville despatched to London this morning--lame his horse--break
his bones--fill him as drunk as the Baltic sea; or do whatever may best
and most effectively stop his journey.--Why does the lout stand there
without answering me? Dost understand me?"

"Why, ay, Master Chiffinch," said Tom; "and so I am thinking doth this
honest man here, who need not have heard quite so much of your counsel,