Mr. Chops shook that deep 'ed of his to a surprisin' extent, and slapped it half a dozen times with his hand, and with more wice than I thought were in him. Then he says: "You're a good feller, but you don't understand. Good-night, go along, Magsman, the little man will now walk three times round the cairawan, and retire behind the curtain." The last I see of him on that occasion was his tryin', on the extremest verge of insensibility, to climb up the stairs, one by one, with his hands and knees. They'd have been much too steep for him, if he had been sober; but he wouldn't be helped.
It warn't long after that, that I read in the newspaper of Mr. Chops's being presented at court. It was printed:
"It will be recollected"—and I've noticed in my life, that it is sure to be printed that it will be recollected whenever it won't—"that Mr. Chops is the individual of small stature whose brilliant success in the last state lottery attracted so much attention." Well, I says to myself, such is life! He has been and done it in earnest at last! He has astonished George the Fourth!
(On account of which, I had that canvas new-painted, him with a bag of money in his hand, a presentin' it to George the Fourth, and a lady in ostrich feathers falling in love with him in a bag-wig, sword, and buckles correct.)
I took the house as is the subject of present inquiries—though not the honor of bein' acquainted—and I run Magsman's Amusements in it thirteen months—sometimes one thing, sometimes another, sometimes nothin' particular, but always all the canvases outside. One night, when we had played the last company out, which was a shy company through its raining heavens hard, I was takin' a pipe in the one pair back along with the young man with the toes, which I had taken on for a month (though he never drawed—except on paper), and I heard a kickin' at the street door. "Halloa!" I says to the young man, " what's up!" he rubs his eyebrows with his toes, and he says, "I can't imagine, Mr. Magsman,"—which he never could imagine nothin', and was monotonous company.
The noise not leavin' off, I laid down my pipe, and I took up a candle, and I went down and opened the door. I looked out into the street; but nothin' could I see, and nothin' was I aware of, until I turned round quick, be-
