laughter roused the Jew from his reverie, and induced him to inquire what was the matter.
"Matter, Fagin!" cried Charley. "I wish you had watched the play. Tommy Chitling hasn't won a point, and I went partners with him against the Artful and dum."
"Ay, ay?" said the Jew, with a grin, which sufficiently demonstrated that he was at no loss to understand the reason. "Try 'em again, Tom; try 'em again."
"No more of it for me, thankee, Fagin," replied Mr. Chitling; "I've had enough. That 'ere Dodger has such a run of luck that there's no standing again' him."
"Ha! ha! my dear," replied the Jew, "you must get up very early in the morning to win against the Dodger."
"Morning!" said Charley Bates; "you must put your boots on over night, and have a telescope at each eye and a opera-glass between your shoulders, if you want to come over him."
Mr. Dawkins received these handsome compliments with much philosophy, and offered to cut any gentleman in company for the first