Look at me. "I knew his poor mother, and for her sake I'll not see this done," cried John Dump. There were two of them. 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. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat.
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