"I wish he'd shut up," he murmured to himself, "but I'm scared to make him, fer fear he'll get sulky an' quit cold on the job.",
"It was in 1802; a Naval dinner was given at Bath—St Vincent was First Lord, I need not tell you—his health was proposed and refused to be drunk by many of the company. The party broke up in confusion; some toasted him in a bumper and left the room; others turned down their glasses and sat still. And you would rank this old gentleman next after Nelson?",
"Old Harry's fairy arrer," gasped Maurice. "Oh say, Bill, ain't that lucky? He must have lost it in his scramble to get away.".
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