Never more shall we survey, sir, Times so splendid and so stirring, Social life and tastes more gay, sir, Laws and statesmen more unerring. Fights and factions more unsparing, Tories truer to traditions, Foreign policy more daring---- (Here the vocalist took a deep breath), And more brutal superstitions! The sounds excited by this song were somewhat discordant, owing to the bravos being mingled with hisses. Mr. Harris resumed his seat with a contemptuous expression, and the chairman, rapping the table, called out: “Gentlemen! ’issing isn’t ’armony to any ear but a goose’s!” “I don’t like the sentiments of that song,” exclaimed a man at the bottom of the table. “Why not, sir?” demanded Mr. Harris, warmly. “First of all, I don’t understand ’em,” said the other. “Oh!” said Mr. Harris with a sneer. “Much of what that song says is to be applied to the present as well as to the past,” observed an old gentleman, looking staggered at his own boldness in talking amid a silence. “For my part, I don’t think a man fights fair who uses a two-edged sword.” Several voices murmured acquiescence. “I’m for the future,” said Mr. Harris, “and told you so at the beginning.” “See here, gentlemen,” called out the landlord; “the meaning of Mr. Harris’s song, so far as I understand its hallusions, is this: he supposes himself to be old----” “No, I don’t,” growled Mr. Harris. “Quite the contrary, _I_ think,” snarled a little grocer near the chairman. “I reckon there’s more swaddling-clothes nor expirience in _them_ sentiments, or I’m gone deaf since I sat down.” “The meaning of my song is just what it says,” retorted Mr. Harris. “I’m not ashamed of being a reformer. Better men than I or any other gentleman in this room, begging _nobody’s_ pardon, have been reformers. Thank God, my politics are not of a kind to call up my blushes when I own them.” As the Tories in the company judged that something offensive was meant by Mr. Harris, several persons spoke at once, and a clamour ensued which threatened to establish the meeting on any other basis than that of harmony. Indeed, one man, who was nearly intoxicated, went so far as to get upon his chair and exclaim, while he brandished his fist, that if he had it in his power, he would hang every Whig in the country. And there is no telling what further extravagances of language and gesture he might have indulged in, but for the prompt interference of a neighbour, who, catching hold of his coat-tail, pulled him under the table.