Of my Incarceration in the Jug
a lodestone to see him with the noose in his fingers, looping and festooning and twining it so delicately beneath the black gallows. Lord, how many times have I stood by, performing the sacred offices of my high calling for the advantage of poor souls as was oozing out of kicking flesh.” Here he smiled and seemed to recall the occasions with unctuous affection, but suddenly resumed: “But there is something further to my nature, the which confounds me. With this delight is entertained a strong repulsion, very antagonistic. My belly has retched at the sight of the Triple Beam, which all the while my eyes devoured with appetite. Explain that for me, Ryder, an’ you may.”
“Rot me,” said I with a laugh, “but ’tis a cheerful conversation you would pursue. Damn the topsman, and here’s to a merry meeting!”
The Ordinary lifted his glass and drank. “I like you, Ryder,” he said, with enthusiasm. “There is nothing mealy-mouthed about you. You make a rare companion to a bottle. The age of drinkers is gone out; but Starbottle and
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