I wonder what the women would say, if they saw the dashing Edward Pepper, Esquire, walking arm in arm with thee at Ranelagh or Vauxhall! Nay, man, never be downcast; if I laugh at thee, it is only to make thee look a little merrier thyself.

Why, thou lookest like a book of my grandfather's called Burton's ''Anatomy of Melancholy;' and faith, a shabbier bound copy of it I never saw." "These jests are a little hard," said Paul, struggling between anger and an attempt to smile; and then recollecting his late literary occupations, and the many extracts he had taken from "Gleanings of the Belles Lettres," in order to impart elegance to his criticisms, he threw out his hand theatrically, and spouted with a solemn face,-- "'Of all the griefs that harass the distrest, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest!'" "Well, now, prithee forgive me," said Long Ned, composing his features, "and just tell me what you have been doing the last two months." "Slashing and plastering!" said Paul, with conscious pride.
"Slashing and what?
The boy's mad.

What do you mean, Paul ?" "In other words," said our hero, speaking very slowly, "know, O very Long Ned! that I have been critic to 'The Asinaeum.'" If Paul's comrade laughed at first, he now laughed ten times more merrily than ever.

He threw his full length of limb upon a neighbouring sofa, and literally rolled with cachinnatory convulsions; nor did his risible emotions subside until the entrance of the hung-beef restored him to recollection.

Seeing, then, that a cloud lowered over Paul's countenance, he went up to him with something like gravity, begged his pardon for his want of politeness, and desired him to wash away all unkindness in a bumper of port.