“Well, but you see, Uncle Hardy, drinkin’s drinkin’; but that’s neither here nor there, as the fellow said. “‘Come (_singing_) all ye young sparkers, come listen to me, And I’ll sing you a ditti, of a pretti ladee.’” “Why, Toby! ha—ha—ha—Well, I r’ally, did, think, you, was, drunk, but, now I believe——blast the flies! I b’lieve, they, jest, as li’f, walk, in my, mouth, as, in, my nose. (_Then looking with eyes half closed at Toby for several minutes._) Why, Toby, you, spit ’bacoo spit, all over, your jacket—and, that’s jist, the very, way, you, got, in your——fix.” At this moment, Mrs. Slow came up, and immediately after, Swift’s son, William. “Come,” said the good lady, “old man, let’s go home; it’s getting late, and there’s a cloud rising; we’ll get wet.” “Why, Nancy! what in the worl’ has got into you! Is you drunk, too? Well, ’pon, my word, and honor, I, b’lieve, every body, in this town, is, got drunk to-day. Why, Nancy! I never, did, see, you, in, that fix, before, in, all, my, live, long, born, days.” “Well, never mind,” said she, “come, let’s go home. Don’t you see the rain coming up?” “Well, will, it rain, upon, my, corn-field, or my cotton-patch? Say, Nancy! which one, will it, rain on? But, Lord, help, my, soul, you are, too drunk, to tell me, any, thing, about it. Don’ my corn want rain, Nancy? Now, jist, tell me, that?” “Yes; but let’s go home.” “Then, why, upon, the face, of the earth, won’t you, let it, rain, then? I, rather, it, should rain, than not.” “Come, old man,” said several by-standers, touched with sympathy for the good lady, “come, get on your horse and go home, and we will help you.” “Oh yes, Uncle Hardy,” said Tobias, affecting to throw all humour aside, and to become very sober all at once, “go home with the old woman. Come, gentlemen, let’s help ’em on their horses—they’re groggy—mighty groggy. Come, old man, I’ll help you.” (_staggering to Hardy._) “Jist look at daddy now!” said Billy; “he’s going to help Mr. Swift, and he’s drunk as Mr. Swift is. Oh, daddy, come, let’s go home, or we’ll get mazin’ wet.” Toby stooped down to help Hardy on his horse—before the horse was taken from the rack—and throwing his arm round Hardy’s legs, he fell backwards, and so did Hardy. “Why—Lord, bless, my, soul,” said Hardy, “I b’lieve I’m drunk, too! What, upon the, face, of the earth, has got, into, all, of us, this day!” “Why, Uncle Hardy,” said Toby, “you pull us both down together! The old man’s mighty groggy,” said Toby to me, in a half whisper, and with an arch wink and smile, as he rose up—I happening to be next to him at the moment—“s’pose we help him up, and get him off? The old woman’s in for it, too,” continued he, winking, nodding, and shrugging up his shoulders very significantly. “Oh no,” said I, “the old woman is perfectly sober, and I never heard of her tasting a drop in all my life.”