"Thank high Heaven for peace and for friendship!" was Œsau's fervent response.
And they filled up and emptied their glasses to the sentiment.
[The Queer Side of Things.]
THE UNBELIEVERS' CLUB.
There had been silence for twenty minutes in the circle of our weekly convivial at the "Chain-Harve." The last word had been "ghosts"—or, more accurately, "ghostes." During that twenty minutes' silence, broken only by the puffing of pipes and the setting down of mugs, Mr. Coffin (who had been an undertaker, or something of that sort, up at London, and was considered the leading mind of the convivial club) had sat twinkling his eyes at the kettle-crane in a way that told those who knew him that something was to come out presently. At the end of the twenty minutes Peter broke the silence with:—