“You don't say so!” replied Mrs. Wood, delighted at the idea.
Mr. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table.
Mr. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following
DRINKING SONG.
I. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip
Are dug from the mines of canary;
And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip
With hogsheads of claret and sherry.
II. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass
Beholds thee in all thy perfection;
And to the pale snout of a temperate ass
Entertains the profoundest objection.
III. For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use,
And the choicest of wine is my colour;
And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues
The fuller I fill it—the fuller!
IV. Jolly nose! there are fools who say drink hurts the sight;
Such dullards know nothing about it.
'T is better, with wine, to extinguish the light,
Than live always, in darkness, without it!
“How long may it be since that boy was found in the way Mrs. Wood mentions?” inquired Jackson, as soon as the clatter that succeeded Mr. Smith's melody had subsided.
“Let me see,” replied Wood; “exactly twelve years ago last November.”
“Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm,” rejoined Jackson.
“Egad!” exclaimed Wood, “you've hit the right nail on the head, anyhow. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him.”
“I should like to hear all particulars of the affair,” said Jackson, “if it wouldn't be troubling you too much.”
Mr. Wood required little pressing. He took a sip of punch and commenced his relation. Though meant to produce a totally different effect, the narrative seemed to excite the risible propensities rather than the commiseration of his auditor; and when Mr. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment.