divil a one of him will give up the lady. Parsons, and ministers, and
even priests, have all been at him; but it is useless: he curses
and damns them right and left, and won't be attended by any one but
her--hadn't you betther try him, Mr. M'Slime? May be you might succeed.
Who knows but a little of the 'Spiritual Food for Babes of Grace'
might sarve him as well as others. There's a case for you. Sure he
acknowledges himself to be a member of the hell-fire club!"

"He's a reprobate, my friend--impenitent, hopeless. I have myself tried
him, spoke with him, reasoned with him, but never was my humility,
my patience, so strongly tried. His language I will not repeat--but
canting knave, hypocrite, rascal attor--no, it is useless and unedifying
to repeat it. Now go, my friend, and do not forget that precious tract
which you have thrust so disrespectfully into your pocket."

Darby, after a shrewd wink at one of the apprentices, which was
returned, passed out, and left Mr. M'Slime to the pursuit of his
salvation.

In the mean time, as we authors have peculiar "privileges," as Mr.
M'Slime would say, we think if only due to our readers to let them have
a peep at M'Slime's note to our friend Valentine M'Clutchy.

"My dear friend--I felt as deep an interest in the purport of your note
as you yourself possibly could. The parties alluded to I appreciate
precisely as you do--M'Loughlin has in the most unchristian manner
assailed my character as well as yours. So has his partner in the
concern--I mean Harman. But then, my friend, are we not Christians,
and shall we not return good for evil? Shall we not forgive them? Some
whispers, hints, very gentle and delicate have reached my ears, which