emotions subside until the entrance of the hung-beef restored him to
recollection. Seeing, then, that a cloud lowered over Paul's
countenance, he went up to him with something like gravity, begged his
pardon for his want of politeness, and desired him to wash away all
unkindness in a bumper of port. Paul, whose excellent dispositions we
have before had occasion to remark, was not impervious to his friend's
apologies. He assured Long Ned that he quite forgave him for his
ridicule of the high situation he (Paul) had enjoyed in the literary
world; that it was the duty of a public censor to bear no malice, and
that he should be very glad to take his share in the interment of the
hung-beef.

The pair now sat down to their repast; and Paul, who had fared but
meagerly in that Temple of Athena over which MacGrawler presided, did
ample justice to the viands before him. By degrees, as he ate and drank,
his heart opened to his companion; and laying aside that Asinaeum dignity
which he had at first thought it incumbent on him to assume, he
entertained Pepper with all the particulars of the life he had lately
passed. He narrated to him his breach with Dame Lobkins, his agreement
with MacGrawler, the glory he had acquired, and the wrongs he had
sustained; and he concluded, as now the second bottle made its
appearance, by stating his desire of exchanging for some more active
profession that sedentary career which he had so promisingly begun.

This last part of Paul's confessions secretly delighted the soul of Long
Ned; for that experienced collector of the highways--Ned was, indeed, of
no less noble a profession--had long fixed an eye upon our hero, as one
whom he thought likely to be an honour to that enterprising calling which
he espoused, and an useful assistant to himself. He had not, in his
earlier acquaintance with Paul, when the youth was under the roof and the