to feel towards an unfortunate gentleman; but his words angered the Old Boy above all bounds. His loud tone of voice, his thumpings of his stick upon the pavement, and the highly dramatic action that he threw into the dialogue, had already attracted the notice of many of the passers by, and had drawn to the spot more than one of those London street-boys, who rise up, by a species of magic, wherever there is an exhibition of any thing for which no payment is demanded; and, it must be confessed, that Mr. Wylde was making a gratuitous exhibition of himself. These small boys, moreover, after the habits of their species, indulged in a running commentary on the passing scene, expressed in the common vernacular, and modelled on the Chorus of the ancient Greek drama. As may be imagined, their varied sallies of wit, and cutting sarcasms, were not without their effect; and their observations of "Draw it mild, old un!" "Don't bust yourself!" "You 'll split yer veskit, guv'nor!" were, to Mr. Wylde, as the lashings of the tail that excite the lion to fury.
"Asylum! keeper!" gasped the Old Boy, who would have roared, if his shortness of breath had permitted him to make so much noise; "by George, Sir! you 'll make me cut you off with a shilling!"
"He says," explained one small boy to another, who had just arrived upon the scene; "he says that he cut off with a bob. The old gent 's vun o' the swell mob." An explanation which was by no means satisfactory to Mr. Wylde.
"Cut me off with a shilling!" echoed the son; "really, Sir, your language is most extraordinary. But you must excuse my giving my attention to more of it, as I have my engagement to keep. Allow me to wish you
