Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Her lips parted, but no words came. Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. shouldn’t be friends. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. Will you take me?" However tempting Mrs. She pushed between the pews, hoping to reach the sword first, while desperately holding on to her petticoats to keep them up, as her sword arm wavered. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. " "Her release would be a mercy," pursued the matron.
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