534 The Man of tellers. [NbV. 



'•' Well, Mr. Holland, what do you say to Shakspeare ?" demanded 

 our pertinacious hostess. 



" Say, ma'am ! — why I say, as you said of the native Miltons : he's 

 the god of my — of my — he's the god of my high-holiday." 



" Good Heavens ! Mr. Holland, you surely can't defend his absurdi- 

 ties !" 



Jack gave me a piteous look, as much as to say, " What ship a-hoy !" 

 and then, with a desperate plunge, he exclaimed — " Yes, damme' e, 

 ma'am, absurdities and all. 1 don't know but what his absurdities are 

 the best part of him." 



" What, sir, his witches ?" 



" Who calls witches absurdities?" quoth my friend, a little warmly. 

 " To be sure they aren't flesh and blood ; but they are very honest 

 folks in their way, and God forbid that I should say a word against 

 them !" 



" Lord, Sir. Holland," cried our hostess's toady, " do you believe in 

 witches ?" 



" What do you mean by ' believe ?' " replied Jack : " I mean to say 

 I've seen 'em — sometimes in the main shrouds — sometimes between the 

 upper sheets." 



" Witches in shrouds are certainly in character," remarked Mrs. Blue- 

 busk ; " but how they get between the sheets is a little incomprehen- 

 sible." 



" Well, then, damme'e, ma'am," cried Jack, somewhat nettled at her 

 want of faith, " it is still more incomprehensible how you are to get at 

 the upper sheets without the shrouds." 



" Why, I protest, Mr. Holland, you are quite a Johnsonian," an- 

 swered the lady ; " you not only believe in witches, but use all his 

 hard- worded incongruities to puzzle your adversaries. Pray, are you 

 ready to go the length of his sesquipedalian lucubrations ?" 



" Whew !'' whistled the astounded Jack : " I'll go the length of my 

 own tether, ma'am, with anybody ; but as to Sess's-queer-puddling, I 

 leave that to my betters." 



Mrs. Bluebusk stared ; but nothing could make her resign. " At all 

 events," cried she, " you can have no objection to defend your favourite 

 Shakspeare by explaining one of his witch scenes, which, to my poor 

 ability, I must confess is absolute nonsense. — Miss Stibbs, my dear, 

 have the kindness to fetch Macbeth." 



Away toddled toady ; while Jack employed the interval in wiping 

 the thick-set perspiration from his forehead, and muttering to himself 

 something, the only wordsof which that I could hear, were " she-shark ! 

 — Shakspeare — Slacbeth ! — who the devil are they ?" 



" Now let us take this scene, ]\Ir. Holland," cried his persecutrix, 

 armed with the sixth volume of Shakspeare. " Here, sir, this. — Pray 

 don't turn away ! — The third scene of the first act. — If you will but 

 ' explain the first ten lines, I shall be satisfied." 



Jack, who had well nigh made up his mind to have a run for it when 

 Shakspeare was produced, thought that, for the sake of his reputation, ten 

 lines might be ventured on ; and he, therefore, took the book from her, 



" Where am I to begin, ma'am ?" 



" There, if you please, sir — ' Enter the three Witches.' " 



" Yes, ma'am : but, upon my word, you seem to read as well as I do. 



