Page:Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist (1844).djvu/119

 twisted off the wire, and cut the string which secured the cork, that cork flew out with a report so loud, that it caused Jones to stagger, as if he had been shot.

"Hark!" cried the reverend gentleman, who at that moment fancied he heard a noise: but, after having listened and found all still, he turned and drank that which to Jones appeared to be boiling gin-and-water.

"Now, sir," he continued, feeling sure that the noise which he had heard was made by Jones on being startled, "what have you to say in explanation of your conduct last night?"

Jones had nothing to say in explanation. He couldn't see what explanation was required. The case appeared to him to be clear as it stood—he went to sleep. That was all he knew about it, and all he could explain, and as he felt that that explanation was unnecessary, he was silent.

"Do you not think, sir," resumed the reverend gentleman, "that such conduct, after all my kindness, was disgraceful?"

"I'm very sorry for it, sir," replied Jones, humbly. "It sha'n't occur again, it sha'n't indeed, sir: I hope you'll look over it."

"I gave you notice, sir, this morning, to quit my service in a month. Now, whether that notice be ratified or withdrawn, depends upon your conduct this night."

Jones bowed, and was about to return to his corner, when the reverend gentleman said, "Bring another glass,"—and when the glass had been brought, and he had drawn another bottle from the basket, he added, taking the wire off and cutting the string—"Now, sir, hold the tumbler, and then drink this off." Bang went the cork from the bottle to the ceiling, and out rushed the beverage, which Jones thought hot; so hot indeed, that he blew it with great caution before he put it to his lips; while it hissed and boiled, and flew into his eyes, as if every bubble had some spite to spit. He soon, however, found that it was cold, and drank it off, and then gasped for breath and shuddered. He didn't at all like it. It wasn't at all nice. There was nothing in the flavour to recommend it. It was hard and sour, and cold—very cold.

"Did you never take soda-water before?" enquired the reverend gentleman, who saw him shuddering convulsively.

"Never, sir."

"Do you not like it?"

"Why, sir—des say it's very good."

"It will keep you awake, Jones."

"Shouldn't be surprised, sir."

The reverend gentleman then emptied the basket, and Jones, to his horror, perceived—instead of a couple of ducks and the pigeon-pie—nothing but twelve of these bottles.

"Well," thought he, "here's a pretty basin o' soup. But he can't mean to say we're agoing for to live upon this here swill all the blessed night."

'You can sit down, Jones," said the reverend gentleman.

Sit down! Yes!—that of course was all very well; but Jones was not thinking of that point then: he was turning over, opening, and fairly