“Not a drop,” replied I; “why, you must have drunk it all.”
“Yes, I recollect now. Get me some water my good boy; for I am dying with thirst.”
I went for the water; he drank the whole pannikin, and asked for more.
“Won’t you have something to eat?” said I.
“Eat? Oh no; I can’t eat anything. Give me drink;” and he held out his hand for the pannikin. I perceived how it trembled and shook, and I observed it to him.
“Yes;” replied he, “that’s always the case after a carouse, and I had a good one last night—the first for many a year. But there’s plenty more of it. I wish you would get me a little more now, Frank, just to steady me; just about two or three mouthfuls, no more; that is, no more till night time. Did I make much noise last night?”
“You sang several songs,” replied I, “with which I was much amused.”
“I’m glad that you liked them. I used to be considered a good singer in my day; indeed, if I had not been such good company, as they term it, I had not become so fond of drinking. Just go and fetch me about half an inch high of the pannikin, my good fellow, that’s all I want now.”
I went down to the cask, drew off the quantity that he requested, and brought it to him. He drank it off; and, in a few moments, appeared to be quite himself again. He then asked for some thing to eat, and commenced telling me a variety of stories relative to what he termed jolly parties in his former days; so that the day passed very agreeably. As the night closed in, he said:
“Now, Frank, I know you want to hear some more songs; so go down and bring me up a full pannikin, and I will sing you plenty.”