Meanwhile that old man standing by, Subducted his long coat-tails on high, With his back to the fire, as if to dry A part of his dress which the watery sky Had visited rather inclemently.-- Blandly he smil'd, but still he look'd sly, And a something sinister lurk'd in his eye. Indeed, had you seen him his maritime dress in, You'd have own'd his appearance was not prepossessing; He'd a "dreadnought" coat, and heavy _sabots_ With thick wooden soles turn'd up at the toes, His nether man cased in a striped _quelque chose_, And a hump on his back, and a great hook'd nose, So that nine out of ten would be led to suppose That the person before them was Punch in plain clothes. Yet still, as I told you, he smiled on all present, And did all that lay in his power to look pleasant. The old woman, too, Made a mighty ado, Helping her guest to a deal of the stew; She fish'd up the meat, and she help'd him to that, She help'd him to lean, and she help'd him to fat, And it look'd like Hare--but it might have been Cat. The little _garçons_ too strove to express Their sympathy towards the "Child of distress" With a great deal of juvenile French _politesse_; But the Bagman bluff Continued to "stuff" Of the fat, and the lean, and the tender and tough, Till they thought he would never cry "Hold, enough!" And the old woman's tones became far less agreeable, Sounding like _peste!_ and _sacre!_ and _diable!_ I've seen an old saw, which is well worth repeating, That says, "~Good Eatynge Deserveth good Drynkynge~." You'll find it so printed by ~Caxton~ or ~Wynkyn~, And a very good proverb it is to my thinking. Blogg thought so too;-- As he finish'd his stew, His ear caught the sound of the word "_Morbleu!_" Pronounced by the old woman under her breath. Now, not knowing what she could mean by "Blue Death!" He conceiv'd she referr'd to a delicate brewing Which is almost synonymous,--namely, "Blue Ruin." So he pursed up his lip to a smile, and with glee, In his cockneyfy'd accent, responded "Oh, _Vee_!" Which made her understand he Was asking for brandy; So she turn'd to the cupboard, and, having some handy, Produced, rightly deeming he would not object to it, An orbicular bulb with a very long neck to it; In fact you perceive her mistake was the same as his, Each of them "reasoning right from wrong premises;"-- --And here by the way, Allow me to say, Kind Reader, you sometimes permit me to stray-- 'Tis strange the French prove, when they take to aspersing, So inferior to us in the science of cursing: Kick a Frenchman down stairs, How absurdly he swears! And how odd 'tis to hear him, when beat to a jelly, Roar out, in a passion, "Blue Death!" and "Blue Belly!"