"Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. “I do not think that he is quite dead. "Off with it to the health of King James the Third, and confusion to his enemies!" "Hold!" interposed Wood; "that is treason. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. ToC Mr. ’ The smile vanished.
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