At certain periods they hold weekly meetings at his house: this
is one of the nights. What say you? Shall I introduce you to the club?"

"I shall be very glad if they will admit me," returned Paul, whom many
and conflicting thoughts rendered laconic.

"Oh! no fear of that, under my auspices. To tell you the truth, though
we are a tolerant set, we welcome every new proselyte with enthusiasm.
But are you tired?"

"A little; the house is not far, you say?"

"About a mile off," answered Tomlinson. "Lean on me."

Our wanderers now, leaving the haystack, struck across part of Finchley
Common; for the abode of the worthy publican was felicitously situated,
and the scene in which his guests celebrated their festivities was close
by that on which they often performed their exploits.

As they proceeded, Paul questioned his friend touching the name and
character of "mine host;" and the all-knowing Augustus Tomlinson
answered him, Quaker-like, by a question,--

"Have you never heard of Gentleman George?"

"What! the noted head of a flash public-house in the country? To be
sure I have, often; my poor nurse, Dame Lobkins, used to say he was the
best-spoken man in the trade!"

"Ay, so he is still. In his youth, George was a very handsome fellow,
but a little too fond of his lass and his bottle to please his
father,--a very staid old gentleman, who walked about on Sundays in
a bob-wig and a gold-headed cane, and was a much better farmer on
week-days than he was head of a public-house. George used to be a
remarkably smart-dressed fellow, and so he is to this day. He has a
great deal of wit, is a very good whist-player, has a capital cellar,
and is so fond of seeing his friends drunk, that he bought some time ago
a large pewter measure in which six men can stand upright. The girls, or
rather the old women, to which last he used to be much more civil of the
two, always liked him; they say nothing is so fine as his fine speeches,
and they give him the title of 'Gentleman George.' He is a nice,
kind-hearted man in many things. Pray Heaven we shall have no cause to
miss him when he departs! But, to tell you the truth, he takes more than
his share of our common purse."

"What! is he avaricious?"

"Quite the reverse; but he's so cursedly fond of building, he invests
all his money (and wants us to invest all ours) in houses; and there's
one confounded dog of a bricklayer who runs him up terrible bills,--a
fellow called 'Cunning Na