During the first week that Mark Antony and the rat-catcher favoured the modern Babylon with their company, no adventure of particular interest had fallen to the lot of either. As both these excellent personages enjoyed the perfect use of their limbs, their peregrinations were numerous, and every interesting object the metropolis contained, was visited from Tyburn to the Tower. In these agreeable excursions, as yet no opening to future fortune had been discovered. It is true, they had seen the world, and made sundry valuable acquaintances; and in return for _blue-ruin_ and _heavy-wet_, received excellent advice, and also, a special invitation to attend the obsequies of a lamented gentlewoman, who had shuffled off this mortal coil in a back attic, two pair up, in Leg-lane. As this last token of respect to departed worth was to be strictly private and genteel, the sticks were taken from the visitors on the first landing-place as they arrived, and deposited in the ruins of a clock-case, by a man with a wooden leg, who attended funerals as chief mourner, and balls as master of ceremonies--and by this useful functionary Mark and his friend were ushered into the apartment, where all that was mortal of Mistress Ellinor Malone was lying in state. The company were already assembled, amounting to some thirty of both sexes, all friends and relations of the deceased, and natives of the Emerald Isle--and nothing could be more imposing than the general effect which the chamber of death presented. Mistress Malone was laid out upon a bench, with a frilled cap upon her head, and a plate of snuff upon her bosom. On one side, stood a three-legged table supporting an unequal number of lights; and on the other, there was a goodly supply of gin, porter, and tobacco. Around the room the company were seated, each gentleman supporting a lady on his knee; and, to judge from appearances, a more united company had never been collected in St. Giles’s. Being the latest arrivals from “the ould country,” the ratcatcher and his young friend obtained particular attention--and on being presented by the single-legged gentleman, they were received, in person, by the disconsolate survivor. “Mister Macgreal, ye’r kindly welcome--and the same, to you, Mister O’Toole--we’ll brook ye’r name, for it’s a good one! I’m in grate afliixskin, as you may parsave--but God’s will be done;” and Mr. Malone crossed himself. “Patsey Doyle, fill the gintlemen a cropper ach--and put a drop in the bottom of a glass for myself, to drink to better acquaintance.” The glasses being duly filled and emptied, Mr. Malone feelingly continued.