Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. There is no hidden beast in you, Hoddy. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair.
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