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PAUL CLIFFORD, Volume 6.
By Edward Bulwer-Lytton
God bless our King and Parliament,
And send he may make such knaves repent!
Loyal Songs against the Rump Parliament.
Ho, treachery! my guards, my cimeter!
BYRON.
When the irreverent Mr. Pepper had warmed his hands sufficiently to beable to transfer them from the fire, he lifted the right palm, and withan indecent jocularity of spirits, accosted the ci-devant ornament of"The Asinaeum" with a sounding slap on his back, or some such part of hisconformation.
"Ah, old boy!" said he, "is this the way you keep house for us? A firenot large enough to roast a nit, and a supper too small to fatten himbeforehand! But how the deuce should you know how to provender forgentlemen? You thought you were in Scotland, I'll be bound!"
"Perhaps he did when he looked upon you, Ned!" said Tomlinson, gravely;"'t is but rarely out of Scotland that a man can see so big a rogue in solittle a compass!"
Mr. MacGrawler, into whose eyes the palmistry of Long Ned had broughttears of sincere feeling, and who had hitherto been rubbing the afflictedpart, now grumbled forth,—
"You may say what you please, Mr. Pepper, but it is not often in mycountry that men of genius are seen performing the part of cook torobbers!"
"No!" quoth Tomlinson, "they are performing the more profitable part ofrobbers to cooks, eh!"
"Damme, you're out," cried Long Ned,—"for in that country there areeither no robbers, because there is nothing to rob; or the inhabitantsare all robbers, who have plundered one another, and made away with thebooty!"
"May the de'il catch thee!" said MacGrawler, stung to the quick,—for,like all Scots, he was a patriot; much on the same principle as a womanwho has the worst children makes the best mother.
"The de'il," said Ned, mimicking the "silver sound," as Sir W. Scott hadbeen pleased facetiously to call the "mountain tongue" (the Scots ingeneral seem to think it is silver, they keep it so carefully) "thede'il,—MacDeil, you mean, sure, the gentleman must have been aScotchman!"
The sage grinned in spite; but remembering the patience of Epictetus whena slave, and mindful also of the strong arm of Long Ned, he curbed histemper, and turned the beefsteaks with his fork.
"Well, Ned," said Augustus, throwing himself into a chair, which he drewto the fire, while he gently patted the huge limbs of Mr. Pepper, as ifto admonish him that they were not so transparent as glass, "let us lookat the fire; and, by the by, it is your turn to see to the horses."
"Plague on it!" cried Ned; "it is always my turn, I think. Holla, youScot of the pot! can't you prove that I groomed the beasts last? I'llgive you a crown to do it."
The wise MacGrawler pricked up his ears.
"A crown!" said he,—"a crown! Do you mean to insult me, Mr. Pepper?But, to be sure, you did see to the horses last; and this worthygentleman, Mr. Tomlinson, must remember it too."
"How!" cried Augustus; "you are mistaken, and I'll give you half a guineato prove it."
MacGrawler opened his eyes larger and larger, even as you may see a smallcircle in th