d. Tumble down; brush the mud off your clothes; appear with
a smiling countenance, and nobody cares. Do you suppose Society is going
to take out its pocket-handkerchief and be inconsolable when you die?
Why should it care very much, then, whether your worship graces yourself
or disgraces yourself? Whatever happens it talks, meets, jokes, yawns,
has its dinner, pretty much as before. Therefore don't be so conceited
about yourself as to fancy your private affairs of so much importance,
mi fili. Whereas Mr. Harry Warrington chafed and fumed as though all the
world was tingling with the touch of that hand which had been laid on
his sublime shoulder.

"A pretty sensation my arrest must have created at the club!" thought
Harry. "I suppose that Mr. Selwyn will be cutting all sorts of jokes
about my misfortune, plague take him! Everybody round the table will
have heard of it. March will tremble about the bet I have with him;
and, faith, 'twill be difficult to pay him when I lose. They will all
be setting up a whoop of congratulation at the Savage, as they call me,
being taken prisoner. How shall I ever be able to appear in the world
again? Whom shall I ask to come to my help? No," thought he, with his
mingled acuteness and simplicity, "I will not send in the first instance
to any of my relations or my noble friends at White's. I will have
Sampson's counsel. He has often been in a similar predicament, and
will know how to advise me." Accordingly, as soon as the light of dawn
appeared, after an almost intolerable delay--for it seemed to Harry as
if the sun had forgotten to visit Cursitor Street in his rounds that
morning--and as soon as the inmates of the house of bondage were
stirring, Mr. Warrington despatched a messenger to his friend in Long
Acre, acquainting the chaplain with the calamity just befallen him,
and beseeching his reverence to give him the benefit of his advice and
consolation.

Mr. Warrington did not know, to be sure, that to send such a message to
the parson was as if he said, "I am fallen amongst the lions. Come
down, my dear friend, into the pit with me." Harry very likely thought
Sampson's difficulties were over; or, more likely still, was so much
engrossed with his own affairs and perplexities, as to bestow little
thought upon his neighbour's. Having sent off his missive, the captive's
mind was somewhat more at ease, and he condescended to call for
breakfast, which was brought to him presently. The attenda