Well, _I_ shall be sorry to lose him, Mr.
Griffin.

We've made a pretty penny by him--sixty guineas this blessed day." "No more!" cried Griffin, incredulously; "I should have thought you must have made double that sum at least." "Not a farthing more, I assure you," rejoined Ireton, pettishly; "we're all on the square here.

I took the money myself, and _ought_ to know." "Oh! certainly," answered Griffin; "certainly." "I offered Jack five guineas as his share," continued Ireton; "but he wouldn't take it himself, and gave it to the poor debtors and felons, who are now drinking it out in the cellar on the Common Side." "Jack's a noble fellow," exclaimed the head-jailer of Clerkenwell Prison, raising his glass; "and, though he played me a scurvy trick, I'll drink to his speedy deliverance." "At Tyburn, eh, Mr.Shotbolt ?" rejoined the executioner.

"I'll pledge you in that toast with all my heart." "Well, for my part," observed Mrs.Spurling, "I hope he may never see Tyburn.

And, if I'd my own way with the Secretary of State, he never _should_.