sums they had levied on the public, and the peculations they had
committed for what one called the good of the community, and another, the
established order,--meaning themselves. It was easy to see in what
school the discerning Augustus Tomlinson had learned the value of words.

There was something edifying in hearing the rascals! So nice was their
language, and so honest their enthusiasm for their own interests, you
might have imagined you were listening to a coterie of cabinet ministers
conferring on taxes or debating on perquisites.

"Long may the Commons flourish!" cried punning Georgie, filling his
glass; "it is by the commons we're fed, and may they never know
cultivation!"

"Three times three!" shouted Long Ned; and the toast was drunk as Mr.
Pepper proposed.

"A little moderate cultivation of the commons, to speak frankly," said
Augustus Tomlinson, modestly, "might not be amiss; for it would decoy
people into the belief that they might travel safely; and, after all, a
hedge or a barley-field is as good for us as a barren heath, where we
have no shelter if once pursued!"

"You talks nonsense, you spooney!" cried a robber of note, called
Bagshot; who, being aged and having been a lawyer's footboy, was
sometimes denominated "Old Bags." "You talks nonsense; these innowating
ploughs are the ruin of us. Every blade of corn in a common is an
encroachment on the constitution and rights of the gemmen highwaymen.
I'm old, and may n't live to see these things; but, mark my words, a time
will come when a man may go from Lunnun to Johnny Groat's without losing