seated on the evening after the conclusion of the election, with several other temporary inmates of the house, smoking and drinking.
"Well, gents," said a stout, hale personage of about forty, with only one eye—a very bright black eye, which twinkled with a roguish expression of fun and good humour, "our noble selves, gents. I always propose that toast to the company, and drink Mary to myself. Eh, Mary!"
"Get along with you, you wretch," said the hand-maiden, obviously not ill pleased with the compliment, however.
"Don't go away, Mary," said the black-eyed man.
"Let me alone, imperence," said the young lady.
"Never mind," said the one-eyed man, calling after the girl as she left the room." "I'll step out by and by, Mary. Keep your spirits up, dear." Here he went through the not very difficult process of winking upon the company with his solitary eye, to the enthusiastic delight of an elderly personage with a dirty face and a clay pipe.
"Rum creeters is women," said the dirty-faced man, after a pause.
"Ah! no mistake about that," said a very red-faced man, behind a cigar.
After this little bit of philosophy there was another pause.
"There's rummer things than women in this world though, mind you," said the man with the black eye, slowly filling a large Dutch pipe, with a most capacious bowl.
"Are you married?" inquired the dirty-faced man.
"Can't say I am."
"I thought not." Here the dirty-faced man fell into fits of mirth at his own retort, in which he was joined by a man of bland voice and placid countenance, who always made it a point to agree with everybody.
"Women, after all, gentlemen," said the enthusiastic Mr. Snodgrass, "are the great props and comforts of our existence."
"So they are," said the placid gentleman.
