I axed the waiter for some _baccar_, he laughed, and told me, as how no smoking was allowed here.” Mr. Cotton being departed, Scribble was disposed to entertain the party with a dissertation on the tendency of habit, to determine the sentiments and characters of men; but the commencement of a favourite song postponed his erudition. CHAPTER XIII. THE next morning, Mr. O’Rourke again applied to Scribble, to interpose on his behalf for leave of absence. Hamilton, who really was somewhat ashamed of having such a figure in their parties, was not much averse to the proposition; he conversed on the subject with his uncle and cousin; the former of whom cared little about the preacher; the latter, though averse to his absence, yet afraid, that by being crossed, he might relax into his former practices, judged it most expedient to consent. Accordingly, he set off that very afternoon on the road to Lewes, and was, by appointment, joined by a female devotee, with whom he had made acquaintance at Brighton, and who agreed to accompany him in his spiritual peregrination. This evening was spent at the theatre. Here, as usual, they were joined by Mr. Scribble, who, at the end of the first act, was very cordially accosted by a strange looking figure that entered the box. This was a tall thin man, with a pale countenance, goggling grey eyes, and a remarkably long nose. Scribble returned the address with great pleasure. “My dear friend, Mr. William Nincompoop, to what do I owe the unexpected happiness of seeing you so far from home? I thought you had spared no time for pleasure;” “I don’t spare time for pleasure now, I have come upon business,” whispered Nincompoop; “but come and sup with me at the tavern, and I will tell you all about it.” Scribble accepted this invitation, and when the play was finished, the bookseller and the author set off to Hicks’s. When they were seated, Nincompoop opened: “My valued friend, Scribble, I know I can depend on you in whatever you undertake, and on your recommendation and advice, as well as your services; I prefer you to any of my authors, for your readiness to undertake any thing. Let me see,” said he, “what you are all doing for me at present. First, there is biography, the history of Katerfelto and his black cat;” “yes, I reckon that one of the best things I ever wrote;” “the life of the noted Charles Price, hanged for forgery; the life and adventures of Hawke the highwayman, and of Macdonald the thief-catcher; but take care of borrowing from the Newgate Calendar. Secondly, travels; tour through Ireland, including picturesque descriptions;” “yes, I got through the bog of Allen in Bunhill-row, and here at Brighton I am at the lake of Killarney;” “very well. Thirdly, metaphysics.--How comes your treatise on?” “I have already proved, that Locke, Hutchinson, Berkeley, Hume, and Reid, are blockheads, and I am now demonstrating, that nobody knows any of the matter but myself.” “Very well. Fourthly, divinity. How are