n,
or benign influence; his empty pouch his Ahreman, or the devil. We shall
not pause to examine his tenets; we meddle with no man's religious
opinions, and shall leave the Magus to the enjoyment of his own
sentiments, be they what they may.

One guest alone remains, and him we shall briefly dismiss. The reader,
we imagine, will scarcely need to be told who was the owner of those
keen gray eyes; those exuberant red whiskers; that airy azure frock. It
was

Our brave co-partner of the roads.
Skilful surveyor of highways and hedges;

in a word--Dick Turpin!

Dick had been called upon to act as president of the board, and an
excellent president he made, sedulously devoting himself to the due
administration of the punch-bowl. Not a rummer was allowed to stand
empty for an instant. Toast, sentiment, and anacreontic song, succeeded
each other at speedy intervals; but there was no speechifying--no
politics. He left church and state to take care of themselves. Whatever
his politics might be, Dick never allowed them to interfere with his
pleasures. His maxim was to make the most of the passing moment; the
_dum vivimus vivamus_ was never out of his mind; a precautionary measure
which we recommend to the adoption of all gentlemen of the like, or any
other precarious profession.

Notwithstanding all Dick's efforts to promote conviviality, seconded by
the excellence of the beverage itself, conversation, somehow or other,
began to flag; from being general it became particular. Tom King, who
was no punch-bibber, especially at that time of day, fell into a deep
reverie; your gamesters often do so; while the Magus, who had smoked
himself drowsy, was composing himself to a doze. Turpin seized this
opportunity of addressing a few words on matters of business to Jerry
Juniper, or, as he now chose to be called, Count Conyers.

"My dear count," said Dick, in a low and confidential tone, "you are
aware that my errand to town is accomplished. I have _smashed_ Lawyer
Coates's _screen_, pocketed the _dimmock_--here 'tis," continued he,
parenthetically, slapping his pockets,--"and done t'other trick in prime
twig for Tom King. With a cool thousand in hand, I might, if I chose,
rest awhile on my oars. But a quiet life don't suit me. I must be
moving. So I shall start to Yorkshire to-night."

"Indeed!" said the _soi-disant_ count, in a languid tone--"so soon?"

"I have nothing to detain me," replied Dick. "And, to tell you the
tru