With his foodle doo," etc.

I question if the honest men, whose misfortune is commemorated in this
pathetic ditty, were more startled at the appearance of the bold thief
than the songster was at mine; for, tired of waiting for some one to
announce me, and finding my situation as a listener rather awkward, I
presented myself to the company just as my friend Mr. Morris, for such,
it seems, was his name, was uplifting the fifth stave of his doleful
ballad. The high tone with which the tune started died away in a quaver
of consternation on finding himself so near one whose character he
supposed to be little less suspicious than that of the hero of his
madrigal, and he remained silent, with a mouth gaping as if I had brought
the Gorgon's head in my hand.

The Justice, whose eyes had closed under the influence of the somniferous
lullaby of the song, started up in his chair as it suddenly ceased, and
stared with wonder at the unexpected addition which the company had
received while his organs of sight were in abeyance. The clerk, as I
conjectured him to be from his appearance, was also commoved; for,
sitting opposite to Mr. Morris, that honest gentleman's terror
communicated itself to him, though he wotted not why.

[Illustration: Frank at Judge Inglewood's--104]

I broke the silence of surprise occasioned by my abrupt entrance.--"My
name, Mr. Inglewood, is Francis Osbaldistone; I understand that some
scoundrel has brought a complaint before you, charging me with being
concerned in a loss which he says he has sustained."

"Sir," said the Justice, somewhat peevishly, "these are matters I never
enter upon after dinner;--there is a time for everything, and a justice
of peace must eat as well as other folks."

The goodly person of Mr. Inglewood, by the way, seemed by no means to
have suffered by any fasts, whether in the service of the law or of
religion.

"I beg pardon for an ill-timed visit, sir; but as my reputation is
concerned, and as the dinner appears to be concluded"--

"It is not concluded, sir," replied the magistrate; "man requires
digestion as well as food, and I protest I cannot have benefit from my
victuals unless I am allowed two hours of quiet leisure, intermixed with
harmless mirth, and a moderate circulation of the bottle."

"If your honour will forgive me," said Mr. Jobson, who had produced and
arranged his writing implements in the brief space that our conversation
afforded; "as