re, Poll?'

"`I wanted for to die, Ben. And what brought you here, Ben?'

"`I didn't want for to live, Poll, when I thought you false.'

"Then Polly might have answered in the words of the old song, master;
but her poor heart was too full, I suppose." And Tom sang--

"Your Polly has never been false, she declares,
Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs.

"Howsomever, in the next minute they were both hugging and kissing,
sobbing, shivering and shaking in each other's arms; and as soon as they
had settled themselves a little, back they went, arm-in-arm, to the
house, and had a good stiff glass to prevent their taking the
rheumatism, went to bed, and were cured of their jealously ever
a'terwards--which in my opinion, was a much better _philo-zoffy_ than
the one they had both been bound on. There, I've wound it all off at
last, master, and now we'll fill up our pannikins."

"Before I consent, friend Dux, pr'ythee inform me how much of this
pleasant liquor may be taken without inebriating, _vulgo_, getting
tipsy."

"Father can drink enough to float a jolly-boat, master," replied Tom;
"so you needn't fear. I'll drink pan for pan with you all night long."

"Indeed you won't, mister Tom," replied the father.

"But I will, master."

I perceived that the liquor had already had some effect upon my worthy
pedagogue, and was not willing that he should be persuaded into excess.
I therefore pulled him by the coat as a hint; but he was again deep in
thought, and he did not heed me. Tired of sitting so long, I got up,
and walked forward to look at the cable.

"Strange," muttered the Dominie, "that Jacob should thus pull me by the
garment. What could he mean?"

"Did he pull you, sir?" inquired Tom.

"Yes, many times; and then he walked away."

"It appears that you have been pulled too much, sir," replied Tom,
appearing to pick up the tail of his coat, which had been torn off by
the dog, and handing it to him.

"_Eheu! Jacobe--fili dilectissime--quid fecisti_?" cried the Dominie,
holding up the fragment of his coat with a look of despair.

"`A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether,'" sang out old Tom:
and then looking at Tom, "Now, ain't you a pretty rascal, master Tom?"

"It is done," exclaimed the Dominie, with a sigh, putting the fragment
into the remaining pocket; "and it cannot be undone."

"Now, I think it is undone, and can be done, master," replied Tom. "A
needle and thread wil