When this delicate matter had been arranged,--"Come," said Pepper, "come, get your hat; but, bless me! I have forgotten one thing." "What ?" "Why, my fine Paul, consider.

The play is a bang-up sort of a place; look at your coat and your waistcoat, that's all!" Our hero was struck dumb with this arqumentum ad hominem.

But Long Ned, after enjoying his perplexity, relieved him of it by telling him that he knew of an honest tradesman who kept a ready-made shop just by the theatre, and who could fit him out in a moment.
In fact, Long Ned was as good as his word; he carried Paul to a tailor, who gave him for the sum of thirty shillings--half ready money, half on credit-a green coat with a tarnished gold lace, a pair of red inexpressibles, and a pepper-and-salt waistcoat.

It is true, they were somewhat of the largest, for they had once belonged to no less a person than Long Ned himself; but Paul did not then regard those niceties of apparel, as he was subsequently taught to do by Gentleman George (a personage hereafter to be introduced to our reader), and he went to the theatre as well satisfied with himself as if he had been Mr.T---- or the Count de -- --.
Our adventurers are now quietly seated in the theatre; and we shall not think it necessary to detail the performances they saw, or the observations they made.

Long Ned was one of those superior beings of the road who would not for the world have condescended to appear anywhere but in the boxes; and, accordingly, the friends procured a couple of places in the dress-tier.