hat, and that only, lost me my seat in Parliament."

Even in the depths of this den, however, Sheridan still remained
sanguine; and when Whitbread came to release him, he found him
confidently calculating on the representation of Westminster, then about
to become vacant by the unjust disgrace of Lord Cochrane. On his return
home to his wife, fortified perhaps by wine, Sheridan burst into a long
and passionate fit of weeping, at the profanation, as he termed it,
which his person had suffered.

In Lord Eldon's youth, when he was simply plain John Scott, of the
Northern Circuit, he lived with the pretty little wife with whom he had
run away, in very frugal and humble lodgings in Cursitor Street, just
opposite No. 2, the chained and barred door of Sloman's sponging-house
(now the Imperial Club). Here, in after life he used to boast, although
his struggles had really been very few, that he used to run out into
Clare Market for sixpennyworth of sprats.

Mr. Disraeli, in "Henrietta Temple," an early novel written in the
Theodore Hook manner, has sketched Sloman's with a remarkable _verve_
and intimate knowledge of the place:--

"In pursuance of this suggestion, Captain Armine was ushered into the
best drawing-room with barred windows and treated in the most
aristocratic manner. It was evidently the chamber reserved only for
unfortunate gentlemen of the utmost distinction; it was simply furnished
with a mirror, a loo-table, and a very hard sofa. The walls were hung
with old-fashioned caricatures by Bunbury; the fire-irons were of
polished brass; over the mantelpiece was the portrait of the master of
the house, which was evidently a speaking likeness, and in which Captain
Armine fancied he traced no slight resemblance to his friend Mr.
Levison; and there were also some sources of literary amusement in the
room, in the shape of a Hebrew Bible and the Racing Calendar.

"After walking up and down the room for an hour, meditating over the
past--for it seemed hopeless to trouble himself any further with the
future--Ferdinand began to feel very faint, for it may be recollected
that he had not even breakfasted. So, pulling the bell-rope with such
force that it fell to the ground, a funny little waiter immediately
appeared, awed by the sovereign ring, and having indeed received private
intelligence from the bailiff that the gentleman in the drawing-room was
a regular nob.

"And here, perhaps, I should remind the reader that of all