22 THE MASTER OF THE HOUNDS. 



" Fill the bumpers fair ; 

 Every drop we sprinkle, 

 From the hrow of care, 

 Smooths away a wrinkle." 



" Bravo ! Bob," shouted Sir Lucius. " We are warming up 

 a little now — go a-head ! " 



" Now, gentlemen, are you ready ? — bumpers all round 1 " 

 inquired Bob, without noticing Sir Lucius' remarks. 



" Ay, ay," was the general response. 



Then said he, rising, " Here's to the health of Blanche 

 Douglas ; and may she have a fox-hunter for her husband." 

 Every glass was emptied in a second. "Thank you, my 

 friends ; and now, Sir Lucius, I'll give you one more verse 

 from Tommy Moore, with the chorus. 



" Wit's electric flame 



Ne'er so swiftly passes, 

 As when through the frame 



It shoots from brimming glasses. 



(" Now the chorus," aside.) 



" Fill the bumpers fair, 

 Every drop, &c." 



In which, all joined most heartily, not excepting the squire 

 and Sir Francis. 



" Couldn't you favour us with another stanza ? " said the 

 latter. 



"Not to-night, Burnett, although you know ' Dulce est 

 desipere in loco ; ' but the other verses are not much to my 

 taste ; and besides that, I must reserve my sweet voice for Miss 

 Constance, with whom I have promised to warble a stave or 

 two." 



Soon after, coffee was introduced, and an adjournment made 

 to the drawing-room, where music and singing brought the 

 evening to a happy conclusion, with this select and cheerful 

 party of friends ; the gentlemen not being sorry to retire rather 

 early to their rooms, after the fatigues of the day. Sir Francis 

 was obliged to take the lead up-stairs about eleven o'clock, es- 

 corted by his considerate friend, who insisted on seeing he had 

 everything comfortable. 



Whilst the family are locked in the arms of Morpheus, we 

 may take the liberty of an author, who has the privilege of 

 burning the midnight oil, to give a short description of the 



