Edgeworth Bess and Poll Maggot are dying to see you. There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. One would think I had agreed to her going. " "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. Jackson, gallantly. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. ’ ‘Yes,’ she agreed, but her manner was a degree less warm. I am the cause of his ill-usage. go.
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