ittest was, and very proper, very,
To represent the wisdom and the wit of Canterbury.
_With my coal-black beard, &c._

At the trial of some smugglers next, one thing I rather queer did,
And the justices upon the bench I literally _bearded_;
For I swore that I some casks did see, though proved as clear as
day, sirs,
That I happened at the time to be some fifty miles away, sirs.
_With my coal-black beard, &c._

This last assertion, I must own, was somewhat of a blunder,
And for perjury indicted they compelled me to knock under;
To my prosperous career this slight error put a stop, sirs,
And thus _crossed_, the knight of Malta was at length obliged to
_hop_, sirs.
_With his coal-black beard, and purple cloak,
jack-boots, and broad-brimmed castor,
Good-by to the knight of Malta._

The knight sat down amidst the general plaudits of the company.

The party, meanwhile, had been increased by the arrival of Luke and the
sexton. The former, who was in no mood for revelry, refused to comply
with his grandsire's solicitation to enter, and remained sullenly at the
door, with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon Turpin, whose
movements he commanded through the canvas aperture. The sexton walked up
to Dick, who was seated at the post of honor, and, clapping him upon
the shoulder, congratulated him upon the comfortable position in which
he found him.

"Ha, ha! Are you there, my old death's-head on a mop-stick?" said
Turpin, with a laugh. "Ain't we merry mumpers, eh? Keeping it up in
style. Sit down, old Noah--make yourself comfortable, Methusalem."

"What say you to a drop of as fine Nantz as you ever tasted in your
life, old cove?" said Zoroaster.

"I have no sort of objection to it," returned Peter, "provided you will
all pledge my toast."

"That I will, were it old Ruffin himself," shouted Turpin.

"Here's to the three-legged mare," cried Peter. "To the tree that bears
fruit all the year round, and yet has neither bark nor branch. You won't
refuse that toast, Captain Turpin?"

"Not I," answered Dick; "I owe the gallows no grudge. If, as Jerry's
song says, I must have a 'hearty choke and caper sauce' for my breakfast
one of these fine mornings, it shall never be said that I fell to my
meal without appet