This was enough, the old feeling of fun and attachment kindled up--the multitude joined him in his speech, precisely as a popular singer is joined by the gods of the upper gallery in some favorite air, and no sooner was it concluded, than the cheering, throwing up of hats, and huzzaing, gave ample proof that he had completely recovered his lost ground, and set himself right with the people.
Such is a brief of old Topertoe, the first Lord of Castle Cumber, who, by the way, did not wear his honors long, the gout, to which he was a martyr, having taken him from under his coronet before he had it a year on his brow.

He was one of the men peculiar to his times, or rather who aided in shaping them; easy, full of strong but gross impulses, quick and outrageous in resentment, but possessed of broad uncouth humor, and a sudden oblivion of his passion.

Without reading or education--he was coarse, sensual, careless, and extravagant, having no stronger or purer principle to regulate him than that which originated in his passions or his necessities.

Of shame or moral sanction he knew nothing, and consequently held himself amenable to the world on two points only--the laws of duelling and those of gaming.

He would take an insult from no man, and always paid his gambling debts with honor; but beyond that, he neither feared nor cared for anything in this world--and being a member of the Hellfire Club, he did not believe in the other.