estimate the force of attraction between bodies by the force required to
separate them!"

While we were all three as noisy and nonsensical as our best friends
could have wished us, a new stranger entered, approached, looked round
the room for a seat, and seeing none, walked leisurely up to our table,
and accosted me with a--"Ha! Mr. Pelham, how d'ye do? Well met; by your
leave I will sip my grog at your table. No offence, I hope--more the
merrier, eh?--Waiter, a glass of hot brandy and water--not too weak. D'ye
hear?"

Need I say that this pithy and pretty address proceeded from the mouth of
Mr. Tom Thornton. He was somewhat more than half drunk, and his light
prying eyes twinkled dizzily in his head. Dartmore, who was, and is, the
best natured fellow alive, hailed the signs of his intoxication as a sort
of freemasonry, and made way for him beside himself. I could not help
remarking, that Thornton seemed singularly less sleek than heretofore:
his coat was out at the elbows, his linen was torn and soiled; there was
not a vestige of the vulgar spruceness about him which was formerly one
of his most prominent characteristics. He had also lost a great deal of
the florid health formerly visible in his face; his cheeks seemed sunk
and haggard, his eyes hollow, and his complexion sallow and squalid, in
spite of the flush which intemperance spread over it at the moment.
However, he was in high spirits, and soon made himself so entertaining
that Dartmore and Tringle grew charmed with him.

As for me, the antipathy I had to the man sobered and silenced me for the
rest of the night; and finding that Dartmore and his friend were eager
for an introduction to some female friends of Thornton's, whom he
mentioned in terms of high praise, I tore myself from them, and made the