'No, my son, no,' he replied cheerfully; 'and I know a place.'
Without more words he conducted me to the 'place,' where I paid for his morning drain twice over.
'You took my hint, my son,' he said, when he had drained his glass, and eaten his lemon; he always ate the slice of lemon after he finished his glass, saying humorously that it was a preparation for the next. 'You took my hint.'
'You wanted to speak to me I thought, Mac.'
'Well, not exactly wanted, my son; but I have something to communicate which may be interesting to you. I know what the tender passion is, and how it burns. I've had my day, and, faith! I'd like to have it over again! It wasn't all sugar, my son. There was one--ah, there was one, I do remember me, in my hot youth!--
"Her lips to mine how often did she join.
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me did she coin. Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protesting.
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jesting."
But what cared I? I whistled her off, and took another, for they're as thick as mulberries, my son. And I'd like to have my time over again, pleasures, pains, and all. But this is not to the point, and yet it is, although the lines will not apply--that is to say, I hope not.'