Mar. From the excellence of your cup, my old friend, I suppose you have a good deal of business in this part of the country. Warm work, now and then, at elections, I suppose?
Mr. H. No, sir; I have long given that work over.
Hast. So, then, you have no turn for politics, I find?
Mr. H. Why, no, sir; there was a time, indeed, when I fretted myself about the mistakes of government, like other people; but finding myself every day grow more angry, and the government no better, I left it to mend itself. Sir, my service to you. [Drinks.]
Hast. So that, with eating above stairs, and drinking below, with receiving your friends within, amusing them without, you lead a good, pleasant, bustling life of it.
Mr. H. I do stir about a great deal, that's certain. Half the differences of the parish are adjusted in this very parlor.
Mar. And you have an argument in your cup, old gentleman, better than any in Westminster Hall.
Mr. H. Aye, young gentleman, that, and a little philosophy.
Mar. [aside]. Well, this is the first time I ever heard of an inn-keeper's philosophy.
Hast. So, then, like an experienced general, you attack them on every quarter. If you find their reason manageable you attack it with your philosophy; if you find they have no reason, you attack them with this. Here's your health, my philosopher.