The proprietor of the hotel had several times requested the party to _break up_, but as the said party threatened to _break his head_ instead, if he interfered with them, he thought it was best to desist from his importunities, and after supplying them with enough wine for the night, he retired to his own chamber, and left them, very reluctantly, to the indulgence of their noisy revels. At the time we have thought proper to open this scene, it was, as we have before stated, about five o’clock in the morning, and the landlord of the hotel had arisen, and his servants also, and the usual bustle in such places prevailed, but still the debauchees continued their riotous mirth, and it appeared as if they had fully made up their minds to make another day of it, at least. ‘The song, Kay, the song, the song; we will have no excuses;’ shouted Maretzo. ‘Ay, ay, the song, the song, we will have no excuses;’ chorused three or four voices, and the man under the table gave a loud snore. ‘Oh, the song, ah! well I don’t mind trying one, just to keep up the conviviality;’ said Kay, who was seated on rather a high chair, with his legs negligently deposited on one end of the table, and twiddling a fine-flavoured cigar in his finger and thumb. ‘The song—let me see—ah, what shall it be? Oh, I have it—very good I think you will admit.’ And then without any further ceremony, Kay, who had an excellent voice commenced singing. The demonstrations of applause that greeted this bacchanalian display, were of the most uproarious kind, and by the time the companions of Maretzo and Kay had given full scope to the exuberance of their delight and approbation, they were one and all ‘done up,’ and one by one dropped off to sleep, leaving the two above-named gentlemen to the uninterrupted enjoyment of their own society. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Maretzo; ‘they are regularly floored, poor devils!’ ‘Completely finished and done up,’ coincided Kay;—‘ha! ha! ha!’ ‘They are not half fellows to be done up with one night’s carouse, poor devils ha! ha! ha!’ observed Maretzo. ‘Poor weak creatures to be knocked down with a dozen or two of wine; ha! ha! ha!’ again laughed Kay. ‘Not like you and I, Kay;’ added Maretzo. ‘Not a bit of it.’ ‘No comparison.’ ‘A loco-foco to the moon.’ ‘Half a pint of beer to a pipe of wine.’ ‘They cannot stand anything!’ ‘Positively nothing!’ ‘They’re twaddlers!’ ‘Drivellers!’ ‘Noodles!’ ‘Boobies!’ ‘Nincompoops!’ ‘Humbugs!’ It may be as well to observe here that these compliments were bestowed upon the party at large, who had been liberally carousing Maretzo and Kay, without expecting the latter to pay a cent of the reckoning, and consequently they may be considered fully entitled to the elegant epithets that were lavishly bestowed upon them. ‘You and I are the fellows to do it, Maretzo,’ said Kay. ‘Positively the very fellows,’ coincided his friend. ‘We are no skulkers while there is plenty of good wine before us,’ added Kay.