England." "And who was he, may I ask?" said Coates. "Claude Du-Val," replied Jack; "and though a Frenchman, he was a deuced fine fellow in his day--quite a tip-top macaroni--he could skip and twirl like a figurant, warble like an opera-singer, and play the flageolet better than any man of his day--he always carried a lute in his pocket, along with his snappers. And then his dress--it was quite beautiful to see how smartly he was rigg'd out, all velvet and lace; and even with his vizard on his face, the ladies used to cry out to see him. Then he took a purse with the air and grace of a receiver-general. All the women adored him--and that, bless their pretty faces! was the best proof of his gentility. I wish he'd not been a Mounseer. The women never mistake. _They_ can always discover the true gentlemen, and they were all, of every degree, from the countess to the kitchen-maid, over head and ears in love with him." "But he was taken, I suppose?" asked Coates. "Ay," responded Jack, "the women were his undoing, as they've been many a brave fellow's before, and will be again." Touched by which reflection, Jack became for once in his life sentimental, and sighed. "Poor Du-Val! he was seized at the Hole-in-the-Wall in Chandos-street by the bailiff of Westminster, when dead drunk, his liquor having been drugged by his dells--and was shortly afterwards hanged at Tyburn." "It was thousand pities," said Mr. Coates, with a sneer, "that so fine a gentleman should come to so ignominious an end!" "Quite the contrary," returned Jack. "As his biographer, Doctor Pope, properly remarks, 'Who is there worthy of the name of man, that would not prefer such a death before a mean, solitary, inglorious life?' By-the-by, Titus, as we're upon the subject, if you like I'll sing you a song about highwaymen." "I should like it of all things," replied Titus, who entertained a very favorable opinion of Jack's vocal powers, and was by no means an indifferent performer; "only let it be in a minor key." Jack required no further encouragement, but disregarding the hints and looks of Coates, sang with much unction the following ballad to a good old tune, then very popular--the merit of which "nobody can deny." A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN Of every rascal of every kind, The most notorious to my mind, Was the Cavalier Captain, gay JEMMY HIND![7] _Which nobody can deny._ But the pleasantest coxcomb among them all For lute, coranto, and madrigal, Was the galliard Frenchman, CLAUDE DU-VAL![8] _Which nobody can deny._ And Tobygloak never a coach could rob, Could lighten a pocket, or empty a fob, With a neater hand than OLD MOB, OLD MOB![9] _Which nobody can deny._