Presently the row grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, “Really, Mister Johnson, blow it!――your forgiveness I implore, Such an observation letting slip, but when a man’s just getting Into bed, you come upsetting nerves and posts of chambers door, Making such a row, forgetting”――Spoke a voice beyond the door: “’Tisn’t Johnson”――nothing more! Quick a perspiration clammy bathed me, and I uttered “Dammy!” (Observation wrested from me, like the one I made before) Back upon the cushions sinking, hopelessly my eyes, like winking, On some stout for private drinking, ranged in rows upon the floor, Fix’d――and on an oyster barrel (full) beside them on the floor, Look’d and groan’d, and nothing more. Open then was flung the portal, and in stepp’d a hated mortal, By the moderns call’d a VULTURE (known as _Sponge_ in days of yore), Well I knew his reputation! cause of all my agitation―― Scarce a nod of salutation changed, he pounced upon the floor; Coolly lifted up the oysters and some stout from off the floor, Help’d himself, and took some more! Then this hungry beast untiring fix’d his gaze with fond admiring On a piece of cold boil’d beef, I meant to last a week or more, Quick he set to work devouring――plates, in quick succession, scouring―― Stout with every mouthful show’ring――made me ask, to see it pour, If he quite enjoy’d his supper, as I watch’d the liquid pour; Said the Vulture “Never more.” Much disgusted at the spacious _vacuum_ by this brute voracious Excavated in the beef――(he’d eaten quite enough for four)―― Still, I felt relief surprising when at length I saw him rising, That he meant to go surmising, said I, glancing at the door―― “Going? well, I won’t detain you――mind the stairs and shut the door――――” “Leave you, Tomkins!――never more.” Startled by an answer dropping hints that he intended stopping All his life――I knew him equal to it if he liked, or more―― Half in dismal earnest, half in joke, with an attempt at laughing, I remarked that he was chaffing, and demanded of the bore, Ask’d what this disgusting, nasty, greedy, vile, intrusive bore Meant in croaking “Never more?” But the Vulture not replying, took my bunch of keys, and trying Sev’ral, found at length the one to fit my private cupboard door; Took the gin out, fill’d the kettle; and with a _sang froid_ to nettle Any saint, began to settle calmly down the grate before, Really as he meant departing at the date I named before, Of never, never more!