"Not much before midnight," answered Jonson, "but your honour must go
back to school and learn lessons before then. Suppose Bess were to
address you thus: 'Well you parish bull prig, are you for lushing jackey,
or pattering in the hum box?' [Note: Well, you parson thief, are you for
drinking gin, or talking in the pulpit?] I'll be bound you would not know
how to answer."

"I am afraid you are right, Mr. Jonson," said I, in a tone of self-
humiliation.

"Never mind," replied the compassionate Job, "we are all born ignorant--
knowledge is not learnt in a day. A few of the most common and necessary
words in our St. Giles's Greek, I shall be able to teach you before
night; and I will, beforehand, prepare the old lady for seeing a young
hand in the profession. As I must disguise you before we go, and that
cannot well be done here, suppose you dine with me at my lodgings."

"I shall be too happy," said I, not a little surprised at the offer.

"I am in Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury, No.--. You must ask for me by the
name of Captain Douglas," said Job, with dignity, "and we'll dine at
five, in order to have time for your preliminary initiation."

"With all my heart," said I; and Mr. Job Jonson then rose, and reminding
me of my promise of secrecy, took his departure.