Smirke appeared to be in a highly valorous state, and, like Bob Acres—before his duel—was ready to cry, "Odds flints, pans, and triggers! odds bullets and blades! odds balls and bullets!" so that Mr. Bouncer might have given him the advice of Sir Lucius in the comedy, and have urged him to decide the matter that evening; and then, "let the worst come of it, it will be off your mind to-morrow." In fact, Mr. Smirke became so very noisy and disagreeable, that his further presence at Effingham's Little-go Wine was unanimously voted to be undesirable; and he was summarily conveyed back to Balliol by two sympathising friends of his own college, who saw him safely to bed "in his room in the uppermost storey," where, like the hero of Dr. Maginn's parody, they "left him alone in his glory," prepared to give him the next morning,
A couple of red
Herrings and soda-water.
Little Mr. Bouncer had seen them safely out of the Brazenface gates, and had said to Mr. Smirke, "I shall be with you at six o'clock, sharp; and mind that I find you all ready for the duel. Effingham and I will arrange the place, and the time must not be later than seven."
"All ri'! all ri'!" was Mr. Smirke's response, as he once more essayed to explain to his friends what he considered to be the true state of the case. "He shed that I shed shute me. Quia mishtake! I shed"
"There, old fellow, cut it short!" said Mr. Bouncer. "Never mind what he said, or what you said. Go to bed, and get to sleep, and don't get up with a shaky hand."
