radiant with the glory of
expectant repletion, a leg of mutton in each hand, two quartern-loaves
under each arm, and between each pair of loaves was jammed a pound of
fresh butter. I had the legs of mutton in the berth, and laid on the
table, that I might contemplate them, whilst I sent my messenger up for
as many bottles of porter as I could buy. But I was not permitted to
enjoy the divine contemplation all to myself. My five messmates came to
partake of this access of happiness. As the legs of mutton lay on the
table, how devoutly we ogled their delicate fat, and speculated upon the
rich and gravy-charged lean! We apostrophised them--we patted them
endearingly with our hands--and, when Bill again made his appearance
laden with sundry bottles of porter, our ecstasy was running at the rate
of fourteen knots an hour.

My messmates settled themselves on the lockers, smiling amiably. How
sorry they were that my eyes were so blackened, and my face so swollen!
With what urbanity they smiled upon me! I was of the right sort--the
good fellow,--damn him who would hurt a hair of my head. They were all
ready to go a step further than purgatory for me.

"Gentlemen," said I, making a semicircular barricade round me of my four
quartern-loaves, my two pounds of fresh butter, and eleven of my bottles
of porter, for I was just about to knock the head off the
twelfth (who, under such circumstances, could have waited for
corkscrews?)--"gentlemen," said I, "get your knives ready, we will have
lunch." Shylock never flourished his more eagerly than did my
companions theirs, each eyeing a loaf.

"Gentlemen, we will have lunch--but, as I don't think that lately you
have used me quite well (countenances all round serious), and as I have,
as you all well know, laid out much money, with little thanks, upon this
mess (faces quite dejected), permit me to remind you that there is still
some biscuit in the bread-bag, and that this before me is private
property."

The lower jaws of my messmates dropped, as if conscious that there would
be no occupation for them. I cut a fine slice off the new bread, spread
it thickly with the butter, tossed over a foaming mug of porter, and,
eating the first mouthful of the delicious preparation, with a
superfluity of emphatic smacks, I burst into laughter at the woebegone
looks around me.

"What," said I, "could you think so meanly of me? You have treated me
according to your natures, I treat you ac