"Have patience, my dear Titmouse," said Gammon, in a low whisper, "in a few months' time you'll soon be thrown into much higher life than even _this_--among _really_ beautiful, and rich, and accomplished women"--[and, _thought_ Gammon, you'll resemble a monkey that has found his way into a rich tulip-bed!] "Fancy that girl Tag-rag standing beside Miss Quirk!" whispered Titmouse, scornfully. "Ha, ha!" gently laughed Gammon--"both of them, in their way, are very worthy persons; but"--Here the ladies withdrew. 'Twas no part of Gammon's schemes, that Titmouse should become the son-in-law of either Quirk or Tag-rag. Mr. Gammon had formed already, vastly different plans for him! As soon as Quirk had taken the head of the table, and the gentlemen drawn together, the bottles were pushed round very briskly, accompanied by no fewer than three different sorts of snuff-boxes, all belonging to Mr. Quirk--all of them presents from grateful Old Bailey clients! One was a huge affair, of Botany Bay wood, with a very flaming inscription on the inside of the lid; from which it appeared that its amiable donors, who were trying the effect of a change of climate on their moral health at the expense of a grateful country, owed their valuable lives to the professional skill and exertions of "Caleb Quirk, Esq." In short, the other two were trophies of a similar description, of which their possessor was very justly not a little proud; and as he saw Titmouse admiring them, it occurred to him as very possible that, within a short time, he should be in possession of a magnificent _gold_ snuff-box, in acknowledgment of the services he should have rendered to his distinguished guest and client. Titmouse was in the highest possible spirits. This, his first glimpse into high life, equalled all his expectations. Round and round went the bottles--crack went joke after joke. Slang sang song upon song, of, however, so very coarse and broad a character as infinitely disgusted Gammon, and apparently shocked the alderman;--though I greatly distrust that old sinner's sincerity in the matter. Then Ghastly's performances commenced. Poor fellow! he exerted himself to the utmost to earn the good dinner he had just devoured; but when he was in the very middle of one of his most impassioned scenes--undoubtedly "tearing a passion to rags,"--Mr. Quirk interrupted impatiently--"Come, come, Ghastly, we've had enough of _that_ sort of thing--it don't suit--d'ye see--at all!--Lord bless us!--don't _roar_ so, man!" Poor Ghastly instantly resumed his seat, with a chagrined and melancholy air. "Give us something funny," snuffled the alderman.