they
observed the effects of the national beverage. They dreaded an
encounter with any of the officers, or others connected with the
squadron; but in this unfrequented lane they were not likely to meet
any of their shipmates. As there is more power in four legs than in
two, however weak in detail they may be, the tipsy students locked
arms, and leaned on each other, one attempting to counteract the
obliquities of the other. They wandered along without knowing whither
they were going, till they came to a small public house, which had a
bench in front of it for the accommodation of the topers who
frequented the bar-room. By mutual consent, and without argument, the
unfortunate couple aimed for this seat as soon as they saw it, for it
promised a grateful respite from the perils of locomotion. The
"finkel" was now doing its utmost upon them. Their heads were dizzy,
and everything was wofully uncertain; still they knew what they were
about, and had sense enough left to dread the consequences of their
indiscretion. After they had seated themselves, they glanced at each
other, as if to ascertain the condition one of the other.

"Lay--bold," said Scott.

"Well, old fellow," replied the other, with a desperate attempt to
stiffen his muscles.

"We're zrunk," added Scott, trying to laugh.

"I know that."

"We're very zrunk."

"I'm not zbad zyou."

"I don't zknow."

The conversation extended no further then, for speech required an
effort they were incapable of making. Scott gaped violently, and
seemed to be sick; but his contortions ended in his falling asleep,
with his head tipped back against the wall. Laybold, more nice in the
disposition of his helpless body, stretched himself on the bench, and
was soon lost to all consciousness of the outer world. The publican
who kept the house came out and looked at the juvenile tipplers.
Doubtless he had seen too many drunken sailors to misapprehend their
condition. He understood the matter perfectly, and being a thrifty
Swede, he was disposed to turn their condition to his own emolument.
He had sundry vacant chambers in his hotel, whose revenues swelled the
sum total of his annual profits, and it hurt his feelings to have them
remain unoccupied. Besides, the air was chilly, and the young
strangers might take cold, and contract a severe illness by such
exposure. But whether he was a publican or a Samaritan in his
intentions, he decided to remove the strangers to the rooms beneat