We had now sat in the pandemonium for nearly three hours. The potency of the liquor had for some time began to preponderate--angry words were exchanging, and some were sleeping, with their heads leaning upon the table. Bill himself was more than half-seas over, and began to bawl out a sea-song. Betsy and I endeavoured to keep him in order, and wished him to retire. We had succeeded, and were rising to leave the company--Bill only half-inclined--when a stranger entered the hall of confusion and drunkenness. We were on our feet. I saw Betsy turn pale as death, and turn her head aside. A number of voices called out, "Hurrah! hurrah! here is Long Ned." A young female, whose eye I had noticed was seldom turned from where we sat, cried out-- "Betsy, you are not going away because your old sweetheart, Long Ned, has come in?" "Shiver my timbers if we are!" cried Bill; and in a moment sat down and called for more liquor. I, as well as Betsy, saw that the envious female was bent on mischief; but how to prevent it I knew not. Long Ned had seated himself at the other side of the table, gloomy as Satan. I felt her tremble, as she sat by my side, I believe more through rage at the female than fear. Long Ned was evidently bent on some mischief or other, and he was quite sober. Bill and he eyed each other for some time. Betsy was coaxing him, to get him away, as well as myself. "No, I will not leave the room," he said, "while that scoundrel is in it; I will face him, or fight him out, if he says an uncivil word to you or myself." The same female sat only one seat from him; I saw them whispering together. Betsy's dark eyes glanced fire. She unbuckled his timber leg, and took it off. Scarce was this done, when Ned said aloud-- "Tell me, Kay, how much you have sold the jilt Bessy for. I see she is very gracious with your ac----" He had only got thus far, when the wooden leg was launched across the table, and felled him to the ground.