That Little-go Wine was a far from quiet party; and the noise and confusion were not lessened by the songs that were sung, which, for the most part, were given in full chorus—a circumstance, however, which was not at all disagreeable to Mr. Bouncer's feelings; but when songs are shouted or yelled at the top of the voice, and without much attention to time or harmony, the result is anything but musical or soothing. Mr. Smirke was there, none the worse for his ducking of the previous day, but already anything but the better for an injudicious combination of coffee and punch. He had originally declared his intention of sticking to the former; but had gradually relaxed his resolve, and had glided into the punch-bowl. A couple of glasses were quite sufficient for Mr. Smirke, who was not, like the typical Englishman described by lago "potent in potting," but rather resembled Cassio in having such "poor and unhappy brains for drinking" that he "could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment." Like Cassio, too, Mr. Smirke, considering that this last night of Term was a "night of revels," had drunk "one cup that was craftily qualified," and yet had made "innovation," and was so "unfortunate in the infirmity," that he ought not to have dared to task his weakness with any more. Nevertheless, like Cassio, he drank more, and with the same result that befell Othello's lieutenant. After a third and fourth glass of punch, Mr. Smirke became obtrusively disagreeable and noisy.
To mild chaff ensued epea pteroenta and hot language. Supper was on the table, and a Mr. Bulpit, a "Skimmery" man, whom Smirke was addressing in language not borrowed from Chesterfield or Grandison, lost his temper, and flung a slice of tongue across the table into
