however. Waiter, bring the bill and no more brandy. Never was so done in
all my life--a gammonacious fellow! "There, sir, there's your one pound
one," said he, handing a sovereign and a shilling to the winner of the
hat. "Give me my tile, and let's mizzle.--Waiter, I can't wait; must
bring the bill up to my lodgings in the morning if it isn't ready.--Come
away, come away--I shall never get over this as long as ever I live.
'Live and let live,' indeed! no wonder he stuck up for the innkeepers--a
publican and a sinner as he is. Good night, gentlemen, good night."

_Exit Jorrocks_.

VII. AQUATICS: MR. JORROCKS AT MARGATE

The shady side of Cheapside had become a luxury, and footmen in red
plush breeches objects of real commiseration, when Mr. Jorrocks,
tired of the heat and "ungrateful hurry of the town," resolved upon
undertaking an aquatic excursion. He was sitting, as is "his custom
always in the afternoon," in the arbour at the farther end of his gravel
walk, which he dignifies by the name of "garden," and had just finished
a rough mental calculation, as to whether he could eat more bread spread
with jam or honey, when the idea of the jaunt entered his imagination.
Being a man of great decision, he speedily winnowed the project over
in his mind, and producing a five-pound note from the fob of his small
clothes, passed it in review between his fingers, rubbed out the
creases, held it up to the light, refolded and restored it to his fob.
"Batsay," cried he, "bring my castor--the white one as hangs next the
blue cloak;" and forthwith a rough-napped, unshorn-looking, white hat
was transferred from the peg to Mr. Jorrocks's head. This done, he
proceeded to the "Piazza," where he found the Yorkshireman exercising
himself up and down the spacious coffee-room, and, grasping his hand
with the firmness of a vice, he forthwith began unburthening himself of
the object of his mission. "'Ow are you?" said he, shaking his arm like
the handle of a pump. "'Ow are you, I say?--I'm so delighted to see you,
ye carn't think--isn't this charming weather! It makes me feel like a
butterfly--really think the 'air is sprouting under my vig." Here he
took off his wig and rubbed his hand over his bald head, as though he
were feeling for the shoots.

"Now to business--Mrs. J---- is away at Tooting, as you perhaps knows,
and I'm all alone in Great Coram Street, with the key of the cellar,
larder, and all that sort of thing, and I've a werr