Either owing to the severity of the blow, or from the shock of the fall, after having saluted my mother earth I lay perfectly motionless; while, alarmed at this proof of prowess, instead of conveying me to durance vile, the guardians of the night, declaring me dead as Julius Cæsar, carried me into a neighbouring apothecary’s, to ascertain whether that disciple of the healing god could minister to mortal wounds, and set defunct gentlemen safe upon their legs again. The doctor having wiped and mounted his spectacles, proceeded to what he believed would turn out a _post mortem_ examination; for after a single glance, he started back and exclaimed-- “Why, ye villans--every sowl of ye will be hanged! Haven’t ye murdered a quaker?” “Not at all,” responded the commander of the faithful. “Sure it was the quaker that murdered us.” “Have done, ye scoundrels! He’s a man of peace.” “Pace or war,” returned a watchman, “he’s the hardest hitter betune this and Bully’s acre, and that’s a big word. He give me one clip wid the left hand, and jist look at my eye, af ye plase. By this book,” and Charlie reverently held up his lantern, “I think it was the crown of my head that first titched the gravel. It was the clanest knock down I ivir got--and many’s the floorer I’ve had in my time from thim college divils. Bad luck attind them night and day--the thieves!” “Who _is_ the gentleman?” inquired the apothecary. “Arrah! sorra one of us knows,” was the reply. “Search his pockets,” said the leech;--“some paper will probably tell.” The quaker’s coatee forthwith underwent a judicial investigation, and divers mercantile documents at once established the identity. “Why,” said the apothecary, “he’s son of Mr. Pryme, the rich merchant, a man whom every body respects. By my conscience, I have one comfort for ye. If any thing goes wrong with the boy here, every man Jack of ye is sure of Botany Bay--ay! and the devil a rap it will cost any of ye for the passage out.” “Oh!--murder! murder!” ejaculated sundry voices. “Whish’t!” said the doctor, for I gave a twist upon the floor, and muttered--“Fill fair, and be d------d to you.” “Holy Bridget!” ejaculated the chief of the Charlies--“if ivir I met a quaker of his kind. He drinks like a fish, and swears like a trooper!” “All! he’s coming round again,” exclaimed the doctor. “See!--the colour’s on his cheek. I tell you what you’ll do. Call a chair, carry him home fur and asy; and, if ye can, smuggle him down the area steps, for the ould gentleman wouldn’t be overpleased to see him. I’ll drop the lad a line or two in the morning, and make all right for you.” Instantly a charlie trotted off, and in a few minutes I was safely ensconced in a “leathern conveniency” now extinct, which at that time performed a double duty in transporting beauty to the ball-room, and drunkards to their cribs.