and accomplished ruffler, at present captain of this district, under the
new appellation of Lovett, is in reality no other than the obscure and
surnameless Paul of the Mug. Now you and I, Augustus, have read human
nature, though in the black letter; and I know well that were I to make
my appearance in Thames Court, and were the old lady (as she certainly
would, not from unkindness, but insobriety,--not that she loves me less,
but heavy wet more) to divulge the secret of that appearance--"

"You know well," interrupted the vivacious Tomlinson, "that the identity
of your former meanness with your present greatness would be easily
traced; the envy and jealousy of your early friends aroused; a hint of
your whereabout and your aliases given to the police, and yourself
grabbed, with a slight possibility of a hempen consummation."

"You conceive me exactly!" answered Clifford. "The fact is, that I have
observed in nine cases out of ten our bravest fellows have been taken off
by the treachery of some early sweetheart or the envy of some boyish
friend. My destiny is not yet fixed. I am worthy of better things than
a ride in the cart with a nosegay in my hand; and though I care not much
about death in itself, I am resolved, if possible, not to die a
highwayman. Hence my caution, and that prudential care for secrecy and
safe asylums, which men less wise than you have so often thought an
unnatural contrast to my conduct on the road."

"Fools!" said the philosophical Tomlinson; "what has the bravery of a
warrior to do with his insuring his house from fire?"

"However," said Clifford, "I send my good nurse a fine gift every now and
then to assure her of my safety; and thus, notwithstanding my absence, I
show my affection by my presents,--excuse a pun."