I understand. I've a carriage within call shall convey you swiftly to town. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard. 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. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. I knew him in spite of his dress. He ate of the bread with great appetite, and having drunk as much as he chose of the water, poured the rest on the floor. ‘Precisely.
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