o vote as I did, because I deferred to the
Irishmen, as persons who were best acquainted with the nature of
potteen; and Antony Harrison was on the same side from former
recollections of his quarterings in Ireland. Humpy Harlow said that
he made it a point always to side with the man of the house.

"It is settled," said Jack Ginger, "and, as we said of Parliamentary
Reform, though we opposed it, it is now law, and must be obeyed. I'll
clear away these marines, and do you, Bob Burke, make the punch. I think
you will find the lemons good--the sugar superb--and the water of the
Temple has been famous for centuries."

"And I'll back the potteen against any that ever came from the Island of
Saints," said Bob, proceeding to his duty, which all who have the honour
of his acquaintance will admit him to be well qualified to perform. He
made it in a couple of big blue water-jugs, observing that making punch
in small jugs was nearly as great a bother as ladling from a bowl; and
as he tossed the steamy fluid from jug to jug to mix it kindly, he sang
the pathetic ballad of Hugger-mo-fane--

"I wish I had a red herring's tail," &c.

It was an agreeable picture of continued use and ornament, and reminded
us strongly of the Abyssinian maid of the Platonic poetry of Coleridge.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW HUMPY HARLOW BROKE SILENCE AT JACK GINGER'S.

The punch being made, and the jug revolving, the conversation continued
as before. But it may have been observed that I have not taken any
notice of the share which one of the party, Humpy Harlow, took in it.
The fact is, that he had been silent for almost all the evening, being
outblazed and overborne by the brilliancy of the conversation of his
companions. We were all acknowledged wits in our respective lines,
whereas he had not been endowed with the same talents. How he came among
us I forget; nor did any of us know well who or what he was. Some
maintained he was a drysalter in the City; others surmised that he might
be a pawnbroker at the West End. Certain it is that he had some money,
which perhaps might have recommended him to us, for there was not a man
in the company who had not occasionally borrowed from him a sum, too
trifling, in general, to permit any of us to think of repaying it. He
was a broken-backed little fellow, as vain of his person as a peacock,
and accordingly we always called him Humpy Harlow, with the spirit of
gentlemanlike candour which characterised all our con