“Vell, sare, I am, and I am not,” replied Jack, mopping his brow, and pretending to regain his composure, “I am used to de leetle ‘orse at de round-about at de fair, I can carry off de ring ten time out of twice, but these great unruly, unmannerly, undutiful screws are more than a match for old Harry.” “Just so,” assented His Highness, with a chuck of his Imperial chin, “just so;” adding in an under-tone, “then I’ll tell you what we’ll do—I’ll tell you what we’ll do—we’ll pop into the bar at the back of the house, and have a glass of something to strengthen our nerves.” “By all means, sare,” replied Jack, who was always ready for a glass. So they quietly turned the corner, leaving the field to settle their risible faculties, while they summoned the pretty corkscrew ringletted Miss Tubbs to their behests. “What shall it be?” asked Imperial John, as the smiling young lady tripped down the steps to where they stood. “Brandy,” replied Jack, with a good English accent. “Two brandies!” demanded Imperial John, with an air of authority. “Cold, _with_?” asked the lady, eyeing Monsieur’s grim visage. “_Neat!_” exclaimed Jack in a tone of disdain. “Yes, Sir,” assented the lady, bustling away. “_Shilling_ glasses!” roared Jack, at the last flounce of her blue muslin. Presently she returned bearing two glasses of very brown brandy, and each having appropriated one, Jack began grinning and bowing and complimenting the donor. “Sare,” said he, after smelling at the beloved liquor, “I have moch pleasure in making your quaintance. I am moch pleased, sare, with the expression of your mog. I tink, sare, you are de ‘andsomest man I never had de pleasure of lookin’ at. If, sare, dey had you in my country, sare, dey vod make you a King—Emperor, I mean. I drink, sare, your vare good health,” so saying, Jack swigged off the contents of his glass at a draught. Imperial John felt constrained to do the same. “Better now,” observed Jack, rubbing his stomach as the liquid fire began to descend. “Better now,” repeated he, with a jerk of his head, “Sare,” continued he, “I sall return the compliment—I sall treat you to a glass.” Imperial John would rather not. He was a glass of sherry and a biscuit sort of man; but Monsieur was not to be balked in his liberality. “Oh, yes, sare, make me de pleasure to accept a glass,” continued Jack, “Here! Jemima! Matilda! Adelaide! vot the doose do they call de young vomans—look sharp,” added he, as she now reappeared. “Apportez, dat is to say, bring tout suite, directly; two more glasses; dis gentlemans vill be goode enough to drink my vare good ‘ealth.” “Certainly,” replied the smiling lady, tripping away for them.