Poor Imperial John was obliged to follow suit.

The Imperial head now began to swim. Mr. Hybrid saw two girls in blue muslin, two Monsieurs, two old yellow Po-chaises, two water-carts with a Cochin-China cock a gollowing a-top of each.

Jack, on the contrary, was quite comfortable. He had got his nerves strung, and was now ready for anything. “S’pose, now,” said he, addressing his staring, half-bewildered friend, “you ascend your gallant grey, and let us look after dese mighty chasseurs. But stop,” added he, “I vill first pay for de tipple,” pretending to dive into his peg-top trousers pocket for his purse. “Ah! malheureusement,” exclaimed he, after feeling them both. “I have left my blont, my tin, in my oder trousers pockets. Navare mind! navare mind,” continued he, gaily, “ve vill square it op some other day. Here,” added he to the damsel, “dis gentlemens vill pay, and I vill settle vid him some oder day—some oder day.” So saying, Jack gathered his horse boldly together, and spurred out of the inn-yard in a masterly way, singing Partant pour la Syrie as he went.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
A BIRD’S EYE VIEW.

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