friend whom he obliged; for, instead of being in London with the
money for the payment of his obligations, this latter gentleman was
travelling abroad, and never hinted one word to Mr. B. that the notes
would fall upon him. The young gentleman was at Brighton lying sick of a
fever; was taken from his bed by a bailiff, and carried, on a rainy day,
to Horsham gaol; had a relapse of his complaint, and when sufficiently
recovered, was brought up to London to the house of Mr. Aminadab; where I
found him--a pale, thin, good-humoured, _lost_ young man: he was lying on
a sofa, and had given orders for the dinner to which I was invited. The
lad's face gave one pain to look at; it was impossible not to see that
his hours were numbered.

Now Mr. B. has not anything to do with my humble story; but I can't help
mentioning him, as I saw him. He sent for his lawyer and his doctor; the
former settled speedily his accounts with the bailiff, and the latter
arranged all his earthly accounts: for after he went from the spunging-
house he never recovered from the shock of the arrest, and in a few weeks
he _died_. And though this circumstance took place many years ago, I
can't forget it to my dying day; and often see the author of Mr. B.'s
death,--a prosperous gentleman, riding a fine horse in the Park, lounging
at the window of a club; with many friends, no doubt, and a good
reputation. I wonder whether the man sleeps easily and eats with a good
appetite? I wonder whether he has paid Mr. B.'s heirs the sum which that
gentleman paid, and _died for_?

If Mr. B.'s history has nothing to do with mine, and is only inserted
here for the sake of a moral, what business have I to mention particulars
of the dinner to which I was treated by that gentleman, in the spunging-
house in Cursitor Street? Why, for the moral too; and therefore the
public must be told of what really and truly that dinner consisted.

There were five guests, and three silver tureens of soup: viz.,
mock-turtle soup, ox-tail soup, and giblet soup. Next came a great piece
of salmon, likewise on a silver dish, a roast goose, a roast saddle of
mutton, roast game, and all sorts of adjuncts. In this way can a
gentleman live in a spunging-house if he be inclined; and over this
repast (which, in truth, I could not touch, for, let alone having dined,
my heart was full of care)--over this meal my friend Gus Hoskins found
me, when he received the letter that I had despatched to h