the organ from him—Mr. Chops come round,
and behaved liberal and beautiful to all. He
then sent for a young man he knowed, as had
a wery genteel appearance and was a Bonnet
at a gaming-booth (most respectable brought
up, father havin been imminent in the livery
stable line but unfort'nate in a commercial
crisis through paintin a old grey, ginger-bay,
and sellin him with a Pedigree), and Mr.
Chops said to this Bonnet, who said his name
was Normandy, which it wasn't:

"Normandy, I'm a goin into Society. Will
you go with me?"

Saya Normandy: " Do I understand you,
Mr. Chops, to hintimate that the 'ole of the
expenses of that move will be borne by yourself?"

"Correct," says Mr. Chops. " And you
shall have a Princely allowance too."

The Bonnet lifted Mr. Chops upon a chair,
to shake hands with him, and replied in
poetry, with his eyes seeminly fall of tears:
"My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea,
And I do not ask for more,
But I'll Go;—along with thee."
They went into Society, in a chay and four
greys with silk jackets. They took lodgings
in Pall Mall, London, and they blazed away.

In consequence of a note that was brought
to Bartlemy Fair in the autumn of next year
by a servant, most wonderful got up in
milk-white cords and tops, I cleaned myself and
went to Pall Mall, one evenin appinted. The
gentlemen was at their wine arter dinner,
and Mr. Chops's eyes was more fixed in that
Ed of his than I thought good for him. There
was three of 'em (in company, I mean), and I
knowed the third well. When last met, he
had on a white Roman shirt, and a bishop's-mitre
covered with leopard-skin, and played
the clarionet all wrong, in a band at a Wild
Beast Show.

This gent took on not to know me, and Mr.
Chops said: " Gentlemen, this is a old friend
of former days:" and Normandy looked at
me through a eye-glass, and said, "Magsman,
glad to see you!"—which I'll take my oath
he wasn't. Mr. Chops, to git him convenient
to the table, had his chair on a throne (much
of the form of George the Fourth's in the
canvass), but he hardly appeared to me to be
King there in any other pint of view, for
his two gentlemen ordered about like
Emperors. They was all dressed like May-Day
—gorgeous!—and as to Wine, they 'swam
in all sorts.

I made the round of the bottles, first separate
(to say I had done it), and then mixed
'em all together (to say I had done it), and
then tried two of 'em as half-and-half, and
then t'other two. Altogether, I passed a
pleasin evenin, but with a tendency to feel
muddled, until I considered it good manners
to get up and say, " Mr. Chops, the best of
friends must part, I thank you for the
wariety of foreign drains you have stood so
'ansome, I looks towards you in red wine, and
I takes my leave." Mr. Chops replied, " If
you'll just hitch me out of this over your
right arm, Magsman, and carry me
downstairs, I'll see you out." I said I couldn't
think of such a thing, but he would have it,
so I lifted him off his throne. He smelt
strong of Maideary, and I couldn't help thinking
as I carried him down that it was like
carrying a large bottle full of wine, with a
rayther ugly stopper, a good deal out of
proportion.

When I set him on the door-mat in the
hall, he kep me close to him by holding on to
my coat-collar, and he whispers:
"I an't 'appy, Magsman."
"What's on your mind, Mr. Chops?"
"They don't use me well. They an't
grateful to me. They puts me on the mantelpiece
when I won't have in more Champagne-wine,
and they locks me in the sideboard
when I won't give up my property."
"Get rid of 'em, Mr. Chops."
"I can't. We're in Society together, and
what would Society say?"

"Come out of Society," says I.

"I can't. You don't know what you're
talking about. When you have once gone
into Society, you mustn't come out of it."

"Then if you'll excuse the freedom, Mr.
Chops," were my remark, shaking my head
grave, " I think it's a pity you ever went in."

Mr. Chops shook that deep Ed of his, to
a surprisin extent, and slapped it half a
dozen times with his hand, and with more
Wice than I thought were in him. Then,
he says, " You're a good feller, but you don't
understand. Good night, go along. Magsman,
the little man will now walk three
times round the Cairawan, and retire behind
the curtain." The last I see of him on that
occasion was his tryin, on the extremest
werge of insensibility, to climb up the stairs,
one by one, with his hands and knees. They'd
have been much too steep for him, if he had
been sober; but he wouldn't be helped.

It warn't long after that, that I read in the
newspaper of Mr. Chops's being presented at
court. It was printed, " It will be recol-
lected "—and I've noticed in my life, that it
is sure to be printed that it will be
recollected, whenever it won't—''that Mr. Chops
is the individual of small stature, whose
brilliant success in the last State Lottery
attracted so much attention." Well, I says to
myself, Such is life! He has been and done
it in earnest at last! He has astonished
George the Fourth!

(On account of which, I had that canvass
new-painted, him with a bag of money in
his hand, a presentin it to George the
Fourth, and a lady in Ostrich Feathers fallin
in love with him in a bag-wig, sword, and
buckles correct.)

I took the House as is the subject of pre-
sent inquiries though not the honor of bein
acquainted—and I run, Magsman's Amuse-