they kept me awake”—­a yawn—­“when nothing else could.”  “Poor fellow!” said his lordship; “I understand he’s done for ten thousand!” “I never believe more than half what the world says,” observed Candour.  “He that has not a farthing,” said Caustic, “cares little whether he owes ten thousand or five.”  “Thank Heaven!” said Candour, “that will never be the case with Charles:  he has a fine estate in Leicestershire.”  “Mortgaged for half its value,” said his lordship.  “A large personal property!” “All gone in annuity bills,” said the Exquisite.  “A rich uncle upwards of fourscore!” “He’ll cut him off with a shilling,” said Caustic.

“Let us hope he may reform,” sighed the Hypocrite; “and sell the pack,” added the Nobleman; “and marry,” continued the Dandy.  “Pshaw!” cried the Satirist, “he will never get rid of his habits, his hounds, or his horns.”  “But he has an excellent heart,” said Candour.  “Excellent,” repeated his lordship unthinkingly.  “Excellent,” lisped the Fop effeminately.  “Excellent,” exclaimed the Wit ironically.  We took this opportunity to ask by what means so excellent a heart and so bright a genius had contrived to plunge him into these disasters.  “He was my friend,” replied his lordship, “and a man of large property; but he was mad—­quite mad.  I remember his leaping a lame pony over a stone wall, simply because Sir Marmaduke bet him a dozen that he broke his neck in the attempt; and sending a bullet through a poor pedlar’s pack because Bob Darrell said the piece wouldn’t carry so far.”  “Upon another occasion,” began the Exquisite, in his turn, “he jumped into a horse-pond after dinner, in order to prove it was not six feet deep; and overturned a bottle of eau-de-cologne in Lady Emilia’s face, to convince me that she was not painted.  Poor fellow!  The first experiment cost him a dress, and the second an heiress.”  “I have heard,” resumed the Nobleman, “that he lost his election for ——­ by lampooning the mayor; and was dismissed from his place in the Treasury for challenging Lord C——.”  “The last accounts I heard of him,” said Caustic, “told me that Lady Tarrel had forbid him her house for driving a sucking-pig into her drawing-room; and that young Hawthorn had run him through for boasting of favours from his sister!” “These gentlemen are really too severe,” remarked young Candour to us.  “Not a jot,” we said to ourselves.

“This will be a terrible blow for his sister,” said a young man who had been listening in silence.  “A fine girl—­a very fine girl,” said the Exquisite.  “And a fine fortune,” said the Nobleman; “the mines of Peru are nothing to her.”  “Nothing at all,” observed the Sneerer; “she has no property there.  But I would not have you caught, Harry; her income was good, but is dipped, horribly dipped.  Guineas melt very fast when the cards are put by them.”  “I was not aware Maria was a gambler,” said the young man, much alarmed.  “Her brother is, sir,” replied his informant.  The querist