Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. “I confess it. ‘I trust you are cursing Valade, and not Melusine.
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