‘I have been a great favourite among the women in my time, Tom,’ said the profligate old debauchee; ‘hundreds of fine women have sat in my lap for hours together. What do you think of that, you dog, eh!’ The old gentleman was proceeding to recount some other exploits of his youth, when he was seized with such a violent fit of creaking that he was unable to proceed.

‘Just serves you right, old boy,’ thought Tom Smart; but he didn’t say anything.

‘Ah!’ said the old fellow, ‘I am a good deal troubled with this now. I am getting old, Tom, and have lost nearly all my rails. I have had an operation performed, too—a small piece let into my back—and I found it a severe trial, Tom.’

‘I dare say you did, sir,’ said Tom Smart.

‘However,’ said the old gentleman, ‘that’s not the point Tom! I want you to marry the widow.’

‘Me, sir! said Tom.

‘You;’ said the old gentleman.

‘Bless your reverend locks,’ said Tom—(he had a few scattered horse-hairs left), ‘bless your reverend locks, she wouldn’t have me.’ And Tom sighed involuntarily, as he thought of the bar.

‘Wouldn’t she?’ said the old gentleman, firmly.

‘No, no,’ said Tom; ‘there’s somebody else in the wind. A tall man—a confoundedly tall man—with black whiskers.’

‘Tom,’ said the old gentleman; ‘she will never have him.’

‘Won’t she?’ said Tom. ‘If you stood in the bar, old gentleman, you’d tell another story.’

‘Pooh, pooh,’ said the old gentleman. ‘I know all about that.’

‘About what?’ said Tom.

‘The kissing behind the door, and all that sort of thing, Tom,’ said the old gentleman. And here he gave another impudent look, which made Tom very wroth, because as you all know, gentlemen, to hear an old fellow, who ought to know better, talking about these things, is very unpleasant—nothing more so.

‘I know all about that, Tom,’ said the old gentleman. ‘I have seen it done very often in my time, Tom, between more people than I should like to mention to you; but it never came to anything after all.’

‘You must have seen some queer things,’ said Tom, with an inquisitive look.

‘You may say that, now,’ replied the old fellow, with a very complicated wink. ‘I am the last of my family, Tom,’ said the old gentleman, with a melancholy sigh.

‘Was it a large one?’ inquired Tom Smart.

‘There were twelve of us, Tom,’ said the old gentleman; ‘fine straight-backed, handsome fellows as you’d wish to see. None of your modern abortions—all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though I say it that should not, which would have done your heart good to behold.’

‘And what’s become of the others, sir?’ asked Tom Smart.

The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied, ‘Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn’t all my constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and went into

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