town; and if he has not as merry a life as some folks, mayhap he may have
a longer. But a merry one forever for such lads as us, Mr. Pepper! I
say, has you heard as how Bill Fang went to Scratchland [Scotland] and
was stretched for smashing queer screens [that is, hung for uttering
forged notes]? He died 'nation game; for when his father, who was a
gray-headed parson, came to see him after the sentence, he says to the
governor, say he, 'Give us a tip, old 'un, to pay the expenses, and die
dacently.' The parson forks him out ten shiners, preaching all the while
like winkey. Bob drops one of the guineas between his fingers, and says,
'Holla, dad, you have only tipped us nine of the yellow boys! Just now
you said as how it was ten!' On this the parish-bull, who was as poor as
if he had been a mouse of the church instead of the curate, lugs out
another; and Bob, turning round to the jailer, cries, 'Flung the governor
out of a guinea, by God!--[Fact]--Now, that's what I calls keeping it up
to the last!"

Mr. Nabbem had scarcely finished this anecdote, when the farmer-like
stranger, who had kept up by the side of the chaise, suddenly rode to the
window, and touching his hat, said in a Norfolk accent,--

"Were the gentlemen we met on the road belonging to your party? They
were asking after a chaise and pair."

"No!" said Nabbem, "there be no gentlemen as belongs to our party!"
So saying, he tipped a knowing wink at the farmer, and glanced over his
shoulder at the prisoners.

"What! you are going all alone?" said the farmer.

"Ay, to be sure," answered Nabbem; "not much danger, I think, in the