Page:Paul Clifford Vol 2.djvu/122

114 You has not a heart for the general distress,—

You cares not a mag if our party should fall,

And if Scarlet Jem were not good at a press,

By Goles it would soon be all up with us all!—

Oh! Scarlet Jem, he is trusty and trim,

Like his wig to his poll, sticks his conscience to him! But I vows I despises the fellow who prizes

More his own ends than the popular stock, Sir,

And the soldier as bones, for himself and his crones,

Should be bon'd like a traitor himself at the block, Sir.

This severe response of Mobbing Francis's did not in the least ruffle the constitutional calmness of Fighting Attie; but the wary Clifford seeing that Francis had lost his temper, and watchful over the least sign of disturbance among the company, instantly called for another song, and Mobbing Francis sullenly knocked down Old Bags.

The night was far gone, and so were the wits of the honest Tax-gatherers: when the President commanded silence, and the convivialists knew that their chief was about to issue forth the orders for the ensuing term. Nothing could be better timed than such directions,—during merriment, and before oblivion.