however, reserved a _bonne bouche_, in a
superb dessert and most exquisite wines, for which the prince had heard
he was famous, and which was, perhaps, the principal incitement to the
honour conferred."

After a night spent in the utmost hilarity, heightened by the vivacity
and good-humour of my associates, to which might be added, the full
gratification of my prevailing _penchant_ for the observance of
character, we were on the point of departing, when Transit, ever on the
alert in search of variety, observed a figure whom (in his phrase) he
had long wished to book; in a few moments a sketch of this eccentric
personage was before us. "That is the greatest original we have yet
seen," said our friend Bob: "he is now in the honourable situation of
croupier to one of the most notorious hells in the metropolis. This poor
devil was once a master tailor of some respectability, until getting
connected with a gang of sharpers, he was eventually fleeced of all
his little property: his good-natured qualifications, and the harmless
pleasantries with which he abounds, pointed him out as a very proper
person to act as a confederate to the more wealthy legs; from a pigeon
he became a bird of prey, was enlisted into the corps, and regularly
initiated into all the diabolical mysteries of the black art. For some
time he figured as a decoy upon the town, dressed in the first style of
fashion, and driving an unusually fine horse and elegant Stanhope, until
a circumstance, arising out of a ~219~~ joke played off upon him by his
companions, when in a state of intoxication, made him so notorious,
that his usefulness in that situation was entirely frustrated, and,
consequently, he has since been employed within doors, in the more
sacred mysteries of the Greek temple. The gentleman I mean is yonder,
with the Joliffe tile and sharp indented countenance: his real name is
B------; but he has now obtained the humorous cognomen of 'The subject'
from having been, while in a state of inebriety, half stripped, put
into a sack, and in this manner conveyed to the door of Mr. Brooks, the
celebrated anatomist in Blenheim-street, by a hackney night-coachman,
who was known to the party as the resurrection Jarvey. On his being
deposited in this state at the lecturer's door, by honest Jehu, who
offered him for sale, the surgeon proceeded to examine his subject,
when, untying the sack, he discovered the man was breathing: 'Why, you
scoundrel,' said the irritab