from the parlour to the
kitchen and back again, as hard as he could trot.
'Do you know, now, that many a time since, when I have been giving
venison, and Burgundy and claret enough to swim a lifeboat in, I often
thought it was a cruel waste of money; for the fellows weren't half as
pleasant as they were that evening on bacon and whisky!
'I've a theory on that subject, Hinton, I'll talk to you more about
another time; I'll only observe now, that I'm sure we all overfeed our
company. I've tried both plans; and my honest experience is, that as far
as regards conviviality, fun, and good-fellowship, it is a great mistake
to provide too well for your guests. There is something heroic in eating
your mutton-chop, or your leg of a turkey, among jolly fellows; there
is a kind of reflective flattering about it that tells you you have been
invited for your drollery, and not for your digestion; and that your
jokes and not your flattery have been your recommendation. Lord bless
you! I 've laughed more over red-herrings and poteen than I ever expect
to do again over turtle and toquay.
'My guests were, to do them justice, a good illustration of my theory.
A pleasanter and a merrier party never sat down together. We had good
songs, good stories, plenty of laughing, and plenty of drink; until at
last poor Darby became so overpowered, by the fumes of the hot water
I suppose, that he was obliged to be carried up to bed, and so we were
compelled to boil the kettle in the parlour. This, I think, precipitated
matters; for, by some mistake, they put punch into it instead of water,
and the more you tried to weaken the liquor, it was only the more tipsy
you were getting.
'About two o'clock, five of the party were under the table, three more
were nodding backwards and forwards like insane pendulums, and the rest
were mighty noisy, and now and then rather disposed to be quarrelsome.
'"Bob," said Lambert to me, in a whisper, "if it's the same thing to
you, I'll slip away and get into bed."
'"Of course, if you won't take anything more. Just make yourself at
home; and as you don't know the way here, follow me."
'"I 'm afraid," said he, "I 'd not find my way alone."
'"I think," said I, "it's very likely. But come along!"
'I walked upstairs before him; but instead of turning to the left, I
went the other way, till I came to the door of the large room that I
have told you already was over the big drawing-room. Just as I put my
hand on
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