Upon returning to the city, M. T. Pate met with a misfortune, which gave him sad affliction when he afterwards came to reflect upon his folly. He had throughout the whole course of his life been a very temperate man, and on Sundays was exceedingly pious. But he and Hercules were now seduced by a party of dissolute fellows, who kept them in a state of inebriation for several days. In fact, Hercules got profoundly intoxicated, and continued in that condition until he was carried on board the ship when she was about to sail; while Pate became boisterous and broke a number of goblets and decanters, and even challenged the proprietor of the hotel to a pugilistic combat. The latter earnestly implored the interposition of Toney Belton, who, upon going to Pate's room, found him standing in the midst of a number of boon-companions, with a bottle in his grasp, making as much noise as was possible by bellowing forth the following bacchanalian melody: The ruby wine sparkles so bright in the bowl, To pleasure it seems to invite; And, by heavens, I vow he's a pitiful soul Who scorneth our revels to night. Let sages discourse on the follies of man, And learnedly talk of his woes; But boys, we'll be happy whilever we can,-- So toss off the goblet!--here goes! Oh, why should we mourn o'er the sorrows of earth, And turn from its pleasures away? He's wiser by far who turns sorrow to mirth, And tastes of life's joys while he may. When all that the sages have taught is summed up, Can it lessen one moment our woes? Oh, no! but they linger not over the cup,-- So toss off the goblet!--here goes! When this song was concluded, Toney began to express his astonishment at Pate's conduct, but his voice was soon drowned by several fellows loudly singing,-- Silvery dews are falling lightly, Golden stars are twinkling brightly, Now's the hour when Pleasure greets us, Round the festive board she meets us, When we mingle heart and soul O'er the flowing, foaming bowl. "But, Mr. Pate, you will be sorry for this when----" Farewell now to care and sorrow! They our moments ne'er shall borrow;-- We, the joyous sons of folly, Leave to sages melancholy, When we mingle heart and soul O'er the flowing, foaming bowl. "Yes, this is fine fun," said Toney; "but after awhile you will have trouble, and----" If the ills of life surround us, If misfortune's arrows wound us, Still a balm we may discover In the bumper running over, When we mingle heart and soul O'er the flowing, foaming bowl. "By heavens, you ought to have a strait-jacket!" said Toney. "Ain't you a pretty picture?--standing there with your coat off and your breeches rent in the rear! I wish some of the ladies whom you used to be making love to could now see----"