CHAPTER LI.
I hate a drunken rogue.
--Twelfth Night.
We took an affectionate leave of Mr. Gordon, and found ourselves once
more in the open air; the smoke and the purl had contributed greatly to
the continuance of our inebriety, and we were as much averse to bed as
ever. We conveyed ourselves, laughing and rioting all the way, to a stand
of hackney-coaches. We entered the head of the flock, and drove to
Piccadilly. It set us down at the corner of the Haymarket.
"Past two!" cried the watchman, as we sauntered by him.
"You lie, you rascal," said I, "you have passed three now."
We were all merry enough to laugh at this sally; and seeing a light gleam
from the entrance of the Royal Saloon, we knocked at the door, and it was
opened unto us. We sat down at the only spare table in the place, and
looked round at the smug and varment citizens with whom the room was
filled.
"Hollo, waiter!" cried Tringle, "some red wine negus--I know not why it
is, but the devil himself could never cure me of thirst. Wine and I have
a most chemical attraction for each other. You know that we always
estimate the force of attraction between bodies by the force required to
separate them!"
While we were all three as noisy and nonsensical as our best friends
could have wished us, a new stranger entered, approached, looked round
the room for a seat, and seeing none, walked leisurely up to our table,
and accosted me with a--"Ha! Mr. Pelham, how d'ye do? Well met; by your
leave I will sip my grog at your table. No offence, I hope--more the
merrier, eh?--Waiter, a glass of hot brandy and water--not too weak. D'ye
hear?"
Need I say that this pithy and pretty address proceeded from the mouth of
Mr. Tom Thornton. He was somewhat more than half drunk, and his light
prying eyes twinkled dizzily in his head. Dartmore, who was, and is, the
best natured fellow alive, hailed the signs of his intoxication as a sort
of freemasonry, and made way for him beside himself. I could not help
remarking, that Thornton seemed singularly less sleek than heretofore:
his coat was out at the elbows, his linen was torn and soiled; there was
not a vestige of the vulgar spruceness about him which was formerly one
of his most prominent characteristics. He had also lost a great deal of
the florid health formerly visible in his face; his cheeks seemed sunk
and haggard, his eyes hollow, and his complexion sallow and squalid, in
spite of the flush which intemperance spread over it at the moment.
However, he was in high spirits, and soon made himself so entertaining
that Dartmore and Tringle grew charmed with him.
As for me, the antipathy I had to the man sobered and silenced me for the
rest of the night; and finding that Dartmore and his friend were eager
for an introduction to some female friends of Thornton's, whom he
mentioned in terms of high praise, I tore myself from them, and made the
best of my way home.
