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"Besides, I once caught Charley at his prayers, Sir Thomas; but I'd be
glad to see the man that ever caught me at them--that's the chat."
Sir Thomas placed his two hands upon his eyes for as good as a minute,
after which he removed them, and stared about him like one awakening
from a disturbed dream.
"Eh?--Begone, Gillespie; I believe I sent for you, but you may go. I am
unwell, and not in a condition to speak to you. When I want you again,
you shall be sent for."
"I don't care a d---- about either hell or the devil, Sir Thomas,
especially when I'm drunk; and I once, for a wager, outswore Squire
Leatherings, who was so deaf that I was obliged to swear with my mouth
to the end of his ear-trumpet. I was backed for fifty guineas by Colonel
Brimstone, who was head of the Hellfire Club."
The baronet signed to him impatiently to begone, and this worthy
moralist withdrew, exclaiming as he went:
"Take my word for it, you will find nothing to your hand equal to
myself; and if there's anything to be done, curse me but I deserve a
preference.


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