--Vicar of Wakefield.

We followed our strange friend through the crowd at the door, which he
elbowed on either side with the most aristocratic disdain, perfectly
regardless of their jokes at his dress and manner; he no sooner got
through the throng, than he stopped short (though in the midst of the
kennel) and offered us his arm. This was an honour of which we were by no
means desirous; for, to say nothing of the shabbiness of Mr. Gordon's
exterior, there was a certain odour in his garments which was possibly
less displeasing to the wearer than to his acquaintance. Accordingly, we
pretended not to notice this invitation, and merely said, we would follow
his guidance.

He turned up a narrow street, and after passing some of the most ill
favoured alleys I ever had the happiness of beholding, he stopped at a
low door; here he knocked twice, and was at last admitted by a slip-shod,
yawning wench, with red arms, and a profusion of sandy hair. This Hebe,
Mr. Gordon greeted with a loving kiss, which the kissee resented in a
very unequivocal strain of disgustful reproach.

"Hush! my Queen of Clubs; my Sultana Sootina!" said Mr. Gordon; "hush! or
these gentlemen will think you in earnest. I have brought three new
customers to the club."

This speech somewhat softened the incensed Houri of Mr. Gordon's
Paradise, and she very civilly asked us to enter.

"Stop!" said Mr. Gordon with an air of importance, "I must just step in
and ask the gentlemen to admit you;--merely a form--for a word from me
will be quite sufficient." And so saying, he vanished for about five