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PAUL CLIFFORD.
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the Mug. Now you and I, Augustus, have read human nature, though in the black letter, and I know well that were I to make my appearance in Thames Court, and were the old lady—(as she certainly would, not from unkindness but insobriety, not that she loves me less but heavy-wet more)—to divulge the secret of that appearance—"

"You know well," interrupted the vivacious Tomlinson, "that the identity of your former meanness with your present greatness would be easily traced; the envy and jealousy of your early friends aroused; a hint of your whereabout and your aliases given to the police, and yourself grabbed, with a slight possibility of a hempen consummation."

"You conceive me exactly!" answered Clifford: "the fact is, that I have observed in nine cases out of ten our bravest fellows have been taken off by the treachery of some early sweetheart or the envy of some boyish friend. My destiny is not yet fixed; I am worthy of better things than a ride in the cart with a nosegay in my hand; and