"What the devil is Miss Brandon to you?
And now, Ned," seeing that the tall hero looked on him with an unfavourable aspect, "here's my hand; forgive me if I was uncivil.

Tomlinson will tell you, in a maxim, men are changeable.

Here's to your health; and it shall not be my fault, gentlemen, if we have not a merry evening!" This speech, short as it was, met with great applause from the two friends; and Clifford, as president, stationed himself in a huge chair at the head of the table.

Scarcely had he assumed this dignity, before the door opened, and half-a-dozen of the gentlemen confederates trooped somewhat noisily into the apartment.
"Softly, softly, messieurs," said the president, recovering all his constitutional gayety, yet blending it with a certain negligent command,--"respect for the chair, if you please! 'T is the way with all assemblies where the public purse is a matter of deferential interest!" "Hear him!" cried Tomlinson.
"What, my old friend Bags!" said the president; "you have not come empty-handed, I will swear; your honest face is like the table of contents to the good things in your pockets!" "Ah, Captain Clifford," said the veteran, groaning, and shaking his reverend head, "I have seen the day when there was not a lad in England forked so largely, so comprehensively-like, as I did.

But, as King Lear says at Common Garden, 'I be's old now!'" "But your zeal is as youthful as ever, my fine fellow," said the captain, soothingly; "and if you do not clean out the public as thoroughly as heretofore, it is not the fault of your inclinations." "No, that it is not!" cried the "tax-collectors" unanimously.
"And if ever a pocket is to be picked neatly, quietly, and effectually," added the complimentary Clifford, "I do not know to this day, throughout the three kingdoms, a neater, quieter, and more effective set of fingers than Old Bags's!" The veteran bowed disclaimingly, and took his seat among the heartfelt good wishes of the whole assemblage.
"And now, gentlemen," said Clifford, as soon as the revellers had provided themselves with their wonted luxuries, potatory and fumous, "let us hear your adventures, and rejoice our eyes with their produce.
The gallant Attie shall begin; but first, a toast,--'May those who leap from a hedge never leap from a tree!'" This toast being drunk with enthusiastic applause, Fighting Attie began the recital of his little history.
"You sees, Captain," said he, putting himself in a martial position, and looking Clifford full in the face, "that I'm not addicted to much blarney.