T. D'Arcy Sniffle, Burlington Hotel.
The end of all this may be imagined: when the Earl of Brandyball was
made acquainted with the curate's love for Lady Fanny, he had that fit
of the gout which so nearly carried him off (to the inexpressible grief
of his son, Lord Alicompayne), and uttered that remarkable speech to
Sniffle, which disposed of the claims of the latter:--' If I didn't
respect the Church, Sir,' his Lordship said, 'by Jove, I'd kick you
downstairs:' his Lordship then fell back into the fit aforesaid; and
Lady Fanny, as we all know, married General Podager.
As for poor Tom, he was over head and ears in debt as well as in
love: his creditors came down upon him. Mr. Hemp, of Portugal Street,
proclaimed his name lately as a reverend outlaw; and he has been seen
at various foreign watering-places; sometimes doing duty; sometimes
'coaching' a stray gentleman's son at Carlsruhe or Kissingen;
sometimes--must we say it?--lurking about the roulette-tables with a
tuft to his chin.
If temptation had not come upon this unhappy fellow in the shape of
a Lord Brandyball, he might still have been following his profession,
humbly and worthily. He might have married his cousin with four thousand
pounds, the wine-merchant's daughter (the old gentleman quarrelled with
his nephew for not soliciting wine-orders from Lord B. for him): he
might have had seven children, and taken private pupils, and eked out
his income, and lived and died a country parson.
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