“No, no,” cried Bob, “do you forget that we must drink out of the bottles? Do you want the ladies to cut their pretty lips with the broken glass, you Mohawk! Though, faith,” said he, in an under-tone, to his fair companion, “I could almost wish such an accident to happen to some one that I know, that I might have an opportunity of exhibiting my courageous devotion, by sucking the wound.” “A prize! a prize!” cried he, jumping up and running a little distance. He returned with five or six large Malahide oyster shells, that had been bleaching on the cliff, where they had been thrown by some former party. Two of them were top shells. “Here,” said he, throwing one to Sweeny, “is a carver for that ham; make haste and put an edge on it, on the rock. Ladies, here are primitive drinking goblets for you. Miss O’Brien, the pleasure of a _shell_ of wine with you.” “I have put a very good edge on the shell,” said Sweeny, “but I can’t cut the ham with it, it slides about so.” “Psha! take a grip of it by the shank, can’t you? What are you afraid of, you omedhaun? Hold it fast, and don’t let it slide. Costello, break up that loaf and send it round. Mr O’Donnell, will you have the goodness to hold one of these ribs for me. Oh, faith, finger and thumb work won’t do; you must take it in your fist, and hold it tight; now pull--bravo! Beau Brummell would be just in his element here. Be my sowl, as Paddy Murphy says, I think if he saw us, he’d jump into that element there to get away.” Mr Sharpe was now in his glory; he had, with Mr Harvey’s assistance, torn up the turkey; and seeing that Bob had decidedly the worst job at the table, he asked him for beef. Mr Harvey joined in the joke, and put in also; but their man was too able for them. “As you are in partnership in the turkey business, in which you have been so successful,” said he, “you had better continue so, in the general provision line,” handing them a piece sufficient to satisfy two, and prevent them from calling again. “Bill” (to one of the college men), “here’s a shell for you to cut the crust of that pie, and help it. Jem” (to another), “Miss Kate O’Brien wishes for some of that chicken that you are trying to dislocate, as gently as if you were afraid of hurting it, or greasing your fingers.” “What part?” said Jem. “A little of the soul, if you please,” said Kate, with a maliciously demure face. “Here it is for you. Miss Kate, soul and body;” and he handed it to her. “The mirth and fun (now) grew fast and furious.” No water fit for drinking could be procured, and the consequence was, that the ale, porter, and wine, were swallowed too abundantly by the gentlemen. Songs were called for, and O’Gorman was in the midst of the “Groves of Blarney,” when Costello shouted out, “A porpoise! a porpoise!” Up jumped the whole party, and up also jumped the table-cloth, which Mr O’Donnell and Mr Sharpe had fastened to their coats or waistcoats.