~152~~The feeble old scout shook his dripping wardrobe, d----d the water and the boosy kid that wallof'd him into it, but without appearing to know which was him; till Bob stepped up, and passing some silver into his mawley, told him he hoped he was not hurt. And our party then, moved on in the direction for Russel-street, Covent-garden, when Sparkle again mentioned his wet condition, and particularly recommended a glass of Cogniac by way of preventive from taking cold. “A good motion well made (said Tom;) and here we are just by the Harp, where we can be fitted to a shaving; so come along.” Having taken this, as Sparkle observed, very necessary precaution, they pursued their way towards Piccadilly, taking their route under the Piazzas of Covent-garden, and thence up James-street into Long-acre, where they were amused by a circumstance of no very uncommon kind in London, but perfectly new to Tallyho. Two Charleys had in close custody a sturdy young man (who was surrounded by several others,) and was taking him to the neighbouring watch-house “What is the matter?” said Tom. “Oh, 'tis only a little bit of a dead body-snatcher,” said one of the guardians. “He has been up to the resurrection rig.{1} Here,” continued he, “I've got the bone-basket,” 1 Resurrection rig--This subject, though a grave one, has been treated by many with a degree of comicality calculated to excite considerable risibility. A late well known humorist has related the following anecdote: Some young men, who had been out upon the spree, returning home pretty well primed after drinking plentifully, found themselves so dry as they passed a public house where they were well known, they could not resist the desire they had of calling on their old friend, and taking a glass of brandy with him by way of finish, as they termed it; and finding the door open, though it was late, were tempted to walk in. But their old friend was out of temper. “What is the matter?”--“Matter enough,” replied Boniface; “here have I got an old fool of a fellow occupying my parlour dead drunk, and what the devil to do with him I don't know. He can neither walk nor speak.” “Oh,” said one of the party, who knew that a resurrection Doctor resided in the next street, “I'll remove that nuisance, if that's all you have to complain of; only lend me a sack, and I'll sell him.” A sack was produced, and the Bacchanalian, who almost appeared void of animation, was without much difficulty thrust into it. “Give me a lift,” said the frolicsome blade, and away he went with the load. On arriving at the doctor's door, he pulled the night bell, when the Assistant made his appearance, not un-accustomed to this sort of nocturnal visitant. ~153~~holding up a bag, “and it was taken off his shoulder as he went along Mercer-street, so he can't say nothing at all.