They visited one public-house after another, till the girl found for them the man they wanted, a shabby, sodden-visaged fellow, with a would-be jaunty air of conscious shrewdness and vanity, who stood before the bar, his thumbs in his armholes, and laying down the law to a group of coster-boys, for want of a better audience. The girl, after sundry plucks at his coat-tail, stopped him in the midst of his oration, and explained her errand somewhat fearfully. Mr. Barker bent down his head on one side, to signify that he was absorbed in attention to her news; and then drawing himself up once more, lifted his greasy hat high in air, bowed to the very floor, and broke forth:-- "Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors: A man of war, and eke a man of peace-- That is, if you come peaceful; and if not, Have we not Hiren here?" And the fellow put himself into a fresh attitude. "We come in peace, my good sir," said Tom; "first to listen to your talented effusions, and next for a little private conversation on a subject on which--" but Mr. Barker interrupted,-- "To listen, and to drink? The muse is dry, And Pegasus doth thirst for Hippocrene, And fain would paint--imbibe the vulgar call-- Or hot or cold, or long or short--Attendant!" The bar girl, who knew his humour, came forward. "Glasses all round--these noble knights will pay-- Of hottest hot, and stiffest stiff. Thou mark'st me? Now to your quest!" And he faced round with a third attitude. "Do you know Mr. Briggs?" asked the straightforward Major. He rolled his eyes to every quarter of the seventh sphere, clapped his hand upon his heart, and assumed an expression of angelic gratitude:-- "My benefactor! Were the world a waste, A thistle-waste, ass-nibbled, goldfinch-pecked, And all the men and women merely asses, I still could lay this hand upon this heart, And cry, 'Not yet alone! I know a man-- A man Jove-fronted, and Hyperion-curled-- A gushing, flushing, blushing human heart!'" "As sure as you live, sir," said Tom, "if you won't talk honest prose, I won't pay for the brandy and water." "Base is the slave who pays, and baser prose-- Hang uninspired patter! 'Tis in verse That angels praise, and fiends in Limbo curse." "And asses bray, I think," said Tom, in despair. "Do you know where Mr. Briggs is now?" "And why the devil do you want to know? For that's a verse, sir, although somewhat slow." The two men laughed in spite of themselves. "Better tell the fellow the plain truth," said Campbell to Thurnall. "Come out with us, and I will tell you." And Campbell threw down the money, and led him off, after he had gulped down his own brandy, and half Tom's beside. "What? leave the nepenthe untasted?" They took him out, and he tucked his arms through theirs, and strutted down Drury Lane. "The fact is, sir,--I speak to you, of course, in confidence, as one gentleman to another--" Mr. Barker replied by a lofty and gracious bow.