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fork did it for occupation. I expostulated with him in public and in private; Mr. Pepper cut his society; Mr. Tomlinson read him an essay on Real Greatness of Soul: all was in vain. He was pumped by the mob for the theft of a bird's-eye wipe. The fault I had borne with—the detection was unpardonable: I expelled him.—Who's here so base as would be a fogle-hunter? if any, speak, for him have I offended! Who's here so rude as would not be a gentleman? if any, speak, for him have I offended! I pause for a reply! What, none! then none have I offended.—(Loud cheers.)—Gentlemen, I may truly add, that I have done no more to Jack Littlefork than you should do to Paul Lovett! The next vacancy in our ranks was occasioned by the loss of Patrick Blunderbull. You know, Gentlemen, the vehement exertions that I made to save that misguided creature, whom I had made exertions no less earnest to instruct. But he chose to swindle under the name of the 'Honourable Captain Smico;' the Peerage gave him the lie at once;