cquired, and the wrongs he had
sustained; and he concluded, as now the second bottle made its
appearance, by stating his desire of exchanging for some more active
profession that sedentary career which he had so promisingly begun.

This last part of Paul's confessions secretly delighted the soul of Long
Ned; for that experienced collector of the highways--Ned was, indeed, of
no less noble a profession--had long fixed an eye upon our hero, as
one whom he thought likely to be an honour to that enterprising calling
which he espoused, and an useful assistant to himself. He had not, in
his earlier acquaintance with Paul, when the youth was under the roof
and the surveillance of the practised and wary Mrs. Lobkins, deemed
it prudent to expose the exact nature of his own pursuits, and had
contented himself by gradually ripening the mind and the finances of
Paul into that state when the proposition of a leap from a hedge would
not be likely greatly to revolt the person to whom it was made. He now
thought that time near at hand; and filling our hero's glass up to the
brim, thus artfully addressed him:--

"Courage, my friend! Your narration has given me a sensible pleasure;
for curse me if it has not strengthened my favourite opinion,--that
everything is for the best. If it had not been for the meanness of that
pitiful fellow, MacGrawler, you might still be inspired with the paltry
ambition of earning a few shillings a week and vilifying a parcel of
poor devils in the what-d'ye-call it, with a hard name; whereas now, my
good Paul, I trust I shall be able to open to your genius a new career,
in which guineas are had for the asking,--in which you may wear fine
clothes, and ogle the ladies at Ranelagh; and when you are tired of
glory and liberty, Paul, why, you have only to make your bow to an
heiress, or a widow with a spanking jointure, and quit the hum of men
like a Cincinnatus!"

Though Paul's perception into the abstruser branches of morals was not
very acute,--and at that time the port wine had considerably confused
the few notions he possessed upon "the beauty of virtue,"--yet he could
not but perceive that Mr. Pepper's insinuated proposition was far from
being one which the bench of bishops or a synod of moralists would
conscientiously have approved. He consequently remained silent; and Long
Ned, after a pause, continued:--

"You know my genealogy, my good fellow? I was the son of Lawyer Pepper,
a shrewd old dog, but as