of a gentleman's kitchen! My last situation had not been lucrative; I had neglected my perquisites, in my ardour for politics. My master too refused to give me a character:—who would take me without one?
"I was asking myself this melancholy question one morning, when I suddenly encountered one of the fine friends I had picked up at my old haunt, the ordinary, in St. James's. His name was Pepper.
"Pepper!" cried Paul.
Without heeding the exclamation, Tomlinson continued.
"We went to a tavern and drank a bottle together. Wine made me communicative; it also opened my comrade's heart. He asked me to take a ride with him that night towards Hounslow: I did so, and found a purse."
"How fortunate! Where?"
"In a gentleman's pocket.—I was so pleased with my luck, that I went the same road twice a-week, in order to see if I could pick up any more purses. Fate favoured me, and I lived for a long time the life of the blest. Oh, Paul, you know
