2 m 
SKETCHES AT THE NICOBARS. 
resort, however, to the toddy stand seemed rather more 
frequent, but still all appeared to be animated with the 
most kindly feelings towards one another. In no one in¬ 
stance did I hear an angry word exchanged, and in short, 
what to an Englishman who has frequented the Crown and 
Anchor at Greenwich Fair, must appear a most extraordinary 
fact, the more drunk the more friendly they got. Women 
instead of squabbling and indulging in remarks such as 
44 Tilly dear, your hair is out of curl,” fell to slobbering 
and kissing one another, and vowing, I suppose, eternal 
friendship. Neither did I see cruel savage man, just as we 
were going to have such a nice waltz, order an immediate 
return home. In only one instance did I see authority made 
use of, and this was I have no doubt to save the character 
of the spouse. The fascinating creature, redolent of toddy 
and tobacco, was dancing with a regular we won’t go home 
till morning vigour, when her husband came up to her and 
begged her to come home; as the poor creature could scarce 
ly stand on her legs, he finally induced her to leave, but not 
ten minutes had elapsed before she staggered back to the 
scene of all her pleasure, and just invigorating herself with 
a whiff of tobacco and a pull at the toddy bottle, she rejoined 
the ring, and recommenced dancing with a frantic energy 
that showed she was the girl for mirth and glee. But as 
she was rapidly becoming a scandal to her sex, two of her 
fast friends took her in hand and commenced kissing and 
weeping toddy over her. They appeared if possible worse 
than she; however they ttied to persuade her she was 
very drunk, and that they were sober enough to see her to bed. 
She was, however, invincible; the last time I caught a 
glimpse of her, she was rearranging her petticoat which was 
a double one, a coloured one inside and a white one outside, 
and she could not have managed it, if it had not been for a 
friend who assisted her. 
As I was making my preparations for leaving, and trying 
to get some one to show us the way back, a middle aged 
man, his face painted red exactly like Clown in the panto¬ 
mime, came up to me in an old white hat, and remarkably 
drunk, and said with a voice as husky as a London waterman’s, 
taking continual sucks the while at the toddy bottle with the 
assistance of a reed, (i how you do. Sir, very glad to see 
you, Sir,—my name is Pompey the Great—very good name” 
u And my name, said I, all the same, very good name—** 
“ What your name” ? said Pompey. <f My name,” I said 
with a bow “is Julius Ceesar, and” taking off my hat to 
