Allan Dorris enjoyed the presence of the two men, and encouraged the oddities of each by plying them with spirits. Although the drink had little effect on Silas, who was very temperate, Tug paid tribute to its strength by opening his wide eye to its greatest extent, as if in wonder at his hospitable reception, and closing the other tighter, like a man who had concluded to give one side of his body a rest. As the evening wore away, and the liquor circulated more freely through his blood, Tug recited, between frequent snorts, what a man he had been until he had been broken up and disgraced by his wife's relations, Silas earnestly vouching for it all, besides declaring that it was a shame, to which their host replied with enthusiasm that it was an outrage that such a bright man and such a good-looking man as Tug had been treated so unjustly, at the same time filling up the glasses, and proposing that they drink to the confusion and disgrace of the relations. Neither of them seemed to realize that Dorris was making game of them; for Tug listened to all he said--and he said a great deal--with an injured air that was extremely ludicrous; and when Davy related that when Mr. Whittle was in practice, the judges begged the favor of his opinion before rendering their decisions on difficult legal questions, Dorris regretted that he had not known the judges, for he felt sure that they were wise and agreeable gentlemen. But at the same time Dorris felt certain that if he should be invited to attend the man's funeral, he would laugh to himself upon thinking how absurdly dignified he must look in his coffin. Silas had never known Tug when he was great, of course, for he had flourished in the time of Silas's father; but he nevertheless believed it, and seemed to have personal knowledge of the former magnificence of the rusty old lawyer. Indeed, but few of the present inhabitants of Davy's Bend had known Tug when he was clean and respectable, for he always claimed that his triumphs were triumphs of the old days, when Davy's Bend was important and prosperous, and among the energetic citizens who had moved away and made decay possible. "I don't amount to anything except when I am drunk--now," Tug said, getting on his feet, and taking aim at his host, "but fill me with aristocratic liquor, and I am as cute as the best of them. Have you ever heard the story of the beggar on horseback? Well, here he is, at your service. Will the rich and aristocratic owner of this house oblige the beggar by pouring out his dram? Ha! the beggar is at full gallop." Dorris good-naturedly obeyed the request, and while Tug was on his feet, his aim happened to strike Silas. "Silas, you greatest of scoundrels," he said, "you thoroughly debased villain, loafer, and liar, I love you."