“Ockelar demonstration, that’s the law,” said the Don.
Mr. Bumpkin’s excitement was absolutely merged in that of the landlady, whom he had so innocently provoked. He stared as the parties continued their wordy justification of this well-ruled household like one dreaming with his eyes open. No woman could have made more ado about her own character than Mrs. Oldtimes did respecting that of her house. But then,
the one could be estimated in money, while the other possessed but an abstract value.
“I believe,” she repeated, “that cards or dominoes has never been played in my house since here I’ve been, or since the law has been what it is.”
“I be wery sorry,” said the penitent Bumpkin; “I warn’t aweare I wur doing anythin’ wrong.”
“It’s unlawful, you see, to play,” said the Don; “and consequently they dursn’t play. Now, why is it unlawful? Because Public Houses is for drinking, not for amusement. Now, sir, Drink is the largest tax-payer we’ve got—therefore Drink’s an important Industry. Set people to work drinking and you get a good Rewenue, which keeps up the Army and Navy—the Navy swims in liquor, sir—but let these here Perducers of the Rewenue pause for the sake o’ playing dominoes, or what not, and what’s the consequence? You check this important industry—therefore don’t by any manner of means interrupt drinking. It’s an agreeable ockepation and a paying one.”
“Well done, sir,” said Oldtimes, from the corner of the fireplace, where he was doing his best with only one mouth and one constitution to keep up the Army and Navy. A patriotic man was Oldtimes.
“Drink,” continued O’Rapley, “is the most powerful horgsilery the Government has.”
“Ah!” said Mr. Bumpkin, not knowing what a horgsilery was; “now thee’ve gone a-head o’ me, sir. Thee’re a larned man, Mr. O’Rapley, and I beant much of a schollard; will thee please to tell I what a horgs—what wur it?”
“Horgsilery,” said Mr. O’Rapley.