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PAUL CLIFFORD.

"And our dinners for the last week?" added Tomlinson;—"this empty nut looks ominous; it certainly has one grand feature, strikingly resembling my pockets."

"Heigho!" sighed Long Ned—turning his waistcoat commodities inside-out with a significant gesture, while the accomplished Tomlinson, who was fond of plaintive poetry, pointed to the disconsolate vacua, and exclaimed—

—"E'en while Fashion's brightest arts decoy
The heart desponding asks if this be joy!"

"In truth, gentlemen," added he, solemnly depositing his nut-crackers on the table, and laying, as was his wont, when about to be luminous, his right finger on his sinister palm—"In truth, gentlemen, affairs are growing serious with us, and it becomes necessary forthwith to devise some safe means of procuring a decent competence."

"I am dunned confoundedly," cried Ned.

"And," continued Tomlinson, "no person of delicacy likes to be subjected to the importunity of vulgar creditors; we must therefore raise mo-