Horner and Cuddle now commenced the glee; and, as the latter had predicted, Cole, after closing his eyes, throwing himself back in his chair, and making sundry wry faces, trowled forth the first reply, and afterwards, all the other responses of old Father Time, in the following verses.-- “Whither away! old Father Time? Ah! whither dost thou run?”-- “Low,--low, I've a mob to mow; My work is never done.” “Tarry awhile with us, old Time, And lay thy scythe aside!”-- “Nay!--nay! 'Tis a busy day; My work it lieth wide.” “Tell us, we pray thee, why, old Time, Thou look'st so pale and glum?”-- Fie!--fie! “I evermore sigh, 'Eternity, oh! come!'” “Art thou, then, tired, old Father Time? Thy labour dost thou rue?”-- “Long,--long, Has it been my song,-- 'Could I but die like you!'” “Tell us, then, when, old Father Time, We may expect thy death!”-- “That morn Eternity's born, Receives my parting breath.” “And what's eternity, Father Time? We pray thee, tell us now!”-- “When men Are dead, it is then Eternity they know.” “Come, fill up thy glass, old Father Time, And clog its sands with wine!”-- “No, no; They would faster flow, And distil tears of brine!” Caddy Cuddle, at the conclusion of these verses, took possession of a vacant chair, by the side of old Cole, and soon forgot that there was such a being as Mrs. Watermark in existence. He quaffed bumper after bumper with honest Jack;--an hour passed very pleasantly away in talking of old times;--and Cuddle wondered to find himself slightly intoxicated. He immediately rose, took his leave rather uncourteously, and went out, muttering something about “eleven miles,” and “Mother Watermark.” In a few minutes, he was mounted, and trotting toward the park gate which opened on the high road. “A fine night, Billy Norman;--a fine night, Billy;” said Cuddle, as he rode through, to the old gatekeeper; “pray, Billy, what say you? Don't you think they have cut the roads up cruelly, of late years?--Here's half a crown, Billy.--What with planting, and enclosing, and road-making, I scarcely know the face of the country; it's as puzzling as a labyrinth.--Good night, Billy!” Cuddle, who was a tolerably bold rider, for a man of his years, now struck his horse rather forcibly, with his heels, and urged him at once into a brisk hand-gallop.