man one sees swaggering in the Burlington Arcade, with his hair and hat on one side, and a military cloak thrown over his shoulders;—or prowling in Regent Street, towards the evening, whiskered and cigarred.
Laying his hand on the shoulder of our hero, this gentleman said, with an affected intonation of voice,
"How dost, my fine fellow?—long since I saw you!—dammee, but you look the worse for wear. What hast thou been doing with thyself?"
"Ha!" cried our hero, returning the salutation of the stranger, "and is it Long Ned whom I behold? I am, indeed, glad to meet you; and I say, my friend, I hope what I heard of you is not true!"
"Hist!" said Long Ned, looking round fearfully, and sinking his voice,—"never talk of what you hear of gentlemen, except you wish to bring them to their last dying speech and confession. But come with me, my lad, there is a tavern hard by, and we may as well discuss matters over a pint of wine. You look cursed seedy, to be sure, but I can tell Bill the waiter—famous fellow, that Bill!—that you are one of my tenants, come to
