UPON leaving the house, it was quickly discovered that Mortimer was at sea without a rudder or compass, but was still enabled to preserve the true line of beauty, which is said to be in a flowing curve; Merry well was magnanimous, Frank Harry moppy, and all of them rather muggy. Harry was going Eastward, and the remainder of the party Westward; it was half-past one in the morning--the weather had cleared up as their brains had been getting foggy. Tom proposed a rattler. Frank Harry swore by the Bacchanalian divinity they might ride in the rumble-tumble if they liked, but none of it for him, and began to stammer out How sweet in--the--wood-lands Wi--ith ii--eet hound--and horn-- To awaken--shrill--[hiccup)--echo, And taste the--(hiccup)--fresh morn. During this time, having turned to the right on leaving the Woolpack, instead of the left, they were pursuing their way down Gracechurch Street, in a line with London Bridge, without discovering their mistake; nor were ~293~~ they aware of the situation they were in till they reached the Monument. “Zounds!” said Tom, “we are all wrong here.” “All right,” said Merrywell--“all right, my boys--go it, my kidwhys.” Bob hearing his Cousin's exclamation, began to make enquiries. “Never mind,” said Tom, “we shall get housed presently--I have it--I know the shop--it is but seldom I get out of the way, so come along--I dare say we shall see some more fun yet.” Saying this, he led the way down Thames street and in a short time introduced them to the celebrated house in Dark-House Lane, kept open at all hours of the night for the accommodation of persons coming to market, and going off by the Gravesend boats and packets early in the morning. On entering this house of nocturnal convenience, a wide field for observation was immediately opened to the mind of Dashall: he was no novice to the varieties of character generally to be found within its walls; and he anticipated an opportunity of imparting considerable information to his Cousin, though somewhat clogg'd by his companions; being known however at the bar, he found no difficulty in providing them with beds: which being accomplished, “Now,” said Tom, “for a new scene in Real Life. Here we are situated at Billingsgate, on the banks of the Thames; in another hour it will be all alive--we will refresh ourselves with coffee, and then look around us; but while it is preparing, we will take a survey of the interior--button up--tie a silk handkerchief round your neck, and we may perhaps escape suspicion of being mere lookers on; by which means we shall be enabled to mingle with the customers in the tap-room, and no doubt you will see some rum ones.” They now entered the tap or general room, which exhibited an appearance beyond the powers of description.