While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. She crept behind the open door and pounced on him when he came out of the bathroom, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled. " "On my soul, Thames, you wrong me!" replied Jack, passionately.
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