at I'm not addicted to much
blarney. Little cry and much wool is my motto. At ten o'clock A.M. saw
the enemy--in the shape of a Doctor of Divinity. 'Blow me,' says I to
Old Bags, 'but I 'll do his reverence!' 'Blow me,' says Old Bags, 'but
you sha' n't,--you'll have us scragged if you touches the Church.'
'My grandmother!' says I. Bags tells the pals,--all in a fuss about
it,--what care I? I puts on a decent dress, and goes to the doctor as
a decayed soldier wot supplies the shops in the turning line. His
reverence--a fat jolly dog as ever you see--was at dinner over a fine
roast pig; so I tells him I have some bargains at home for him. Splice
me, if the doctor did not think he had got a prize; so he puts on his
boots, and he comes with me to my house. But when I gets him into a
lane, out come my pops. 'Give up, Doctor,' says I; 'others must share
the goods of the Church now.' You has no idea what a row he made; but I
did the thing, and there's an end on't."

"Bravo, Attie!" cried Clifford; and the word echoed round the board.
Attie put a purse on the table, and the next gentleman was called to
confession.

"It skills not, boots not," gentlest of readers, to record each of
the narratives that now followed one another. Old Bags, in especial,
preserved his well-earned reputation by emptying six pockets, which had
been filled with every possible description of petty valuables. Peasant
and prince appeared alike to have come under his hands; and perhaps the
good old man had done in the town more towards effecting an equality
of goods among different ranks than all the Reformers, from Cornwall to
Carlisle. Yet so keen was his appetite for the sport that the veteran
appropriator absolutely burst into tears at not having "forked more."

"I love a warm-hearted enthusiasm," cried Clifford, handling the
movables, while he gazed lovingly on the ancient purloiner. "May new
cases never teach us to forget Old Bags!"

As soon as this "sentiment" had been duly drunk, and Mr. Bagshot had
dried his tears and applied himself to his favourite drink,--which,
by the way, was "blue ruin,"--the work of division took place. The
discretion and impartiality of the captain in this arduous part of his
duty attracted universal admiration; and each gentleman having carefully
pouched his share, the youthful president hemmed thrice, and the society
became aware of a purposed speech.

"Gentlemen!" began Clifford,--and his main supporter, the sapient