Gay," he added, turning to the poet. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. As soon as the service was over, Thames contrived to approach him, and whispered, "Be cautious,—the funeral will take place after evening service. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. ‘Did it indeed?’ ‘I should think he’s guessed, don’t you?’ ‘Without any doubt at all. And that confounded engagement!” “Gone!” They came upon a platform, and stood before her compartment.
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