beautiful Havannahs." "No, Jorrocks,--dine with
me," said a third, "and play chicken-hazard." "Don't," said a fourth,
confidentially, "he'll fleece ye like fun". "Let me put your name
down to our Pigeon Club; only a guinea entrance and a guinea
subscription--nothing to a rich man like you." "Have you any coin to
lend on unexceptionable personal security, with a power of killing and
selling your man if he don't pay?" inquired another. "Are they going
to abolish the law of arrest? 'twould be very convenient if they did."
"Will you discount me a bill at three months?" "Is B---- out of the
Bench yet?" "Who do they call Nodding Homer in your hunt?" "Oh,
gentlemen, gentlemen!" cried Mr. Jorrocks, "go it gently, go it gently!
Consider the day is 'ot, I'm almost out of breath, and faint for want of
food. I've come all the way from Angle-tear, as we say in France, and
lost my breakfast on the wogaye. Where is there an inn where I can
recruit my famished frame? What's this?" looking up at a sign, "'Done a
boar in a manger,' what does this mean?--where's my French dictionary?
I've heard that boar is very good to eat." "Yes, but this boar is to
drink," said a friend on the right; "but you must not put up at a house
of that sort; come to the Hotel d'Orleans, where all the best fellows
and men of consequence go, a celebrated house in the days of the
Boulogne Hunt. Ah, that was the time, Mr. Jorrocks! we lived like
fighting-cocks then; you should have been among us, such a rollicking
set of dogs! could hunt all day, race maggots and drink claret all
night, and take an occasional by-day with the hounds on a Sunday. Can't
do that with the Surrey, I guess. There's the Hotel d'Orleans," pointing
to it as they turned the corner of the street; "splendid house it is.
I've no interest in taking you there, don't suppose so; but the sun of
its greatness is fast setting--there's no such shaking of elbows as
there used to be--the IOU system knocked that up. Still, you'll be very
comfortable; a bit of carpet by your bedside, curtains to your windows,
a pie-dish to wash in, a clean towel every third day, and as many
friends to dine with you as ever you like--no want of company in
Boulogne, I assure you. Here, Mr. W----," addressing the innkeeper who
appeared at the door, "this is the very celebrated Mr. Jorrocks, of whom
we have all heard so much,--take him and use him as you would your own
son; and, hark ye (aside), don't forget I brought him."

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