CHAPTER XXIII.
Show me not thy painted beauties, These impostures I defy .-- George Withers.
The cave of Falri smelt not more delicately--on every side appeared the marks of drunkenness and gluttony.

At the upper end of the cave the sorcerer lay extended, etc .-- Mirglip the Persian, in the "Tales of the Genii." I woke the next morning with an aching head and feverish frame.

Ah, those midnight carousals, how glorious they would be if there was no next morning! I took my sauterne and sodawater in my dressing-room; and, as indisposition always makes me meditative, I thought over all I had done since my arrival at Paris.

I had become (that, God knows, I soon manage to do) rather a talked of and noted character.

It is true that I was every where abused--one found fault with my neckcloth--another with my mind--the lank Mr.Aberton declared that I put my hair in papers, and the stuffed Sir Henry Millington said I was a thread-paper myself.