"How d'ye like his Holiness's FAYTURE?" said Jerry Blake.

"Anyhow you'll have a MERRY THOUGHT," cried the incorrigible Doctor, and
all the party shrieked at the witticism.

"De mortuis nil nisi bonum," said Jack, holding up the drumstick clean.

"'Faith, there's not enough of it to make us CHICKEN-HEARTED, anyhow,"
said I; "come, boys, let's have a song."

"Here goes," said Tom Delaney, and sung the following lyric, of his own
composition--

"Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill,
And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the hill,
Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot,
As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot--
In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass,
And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass.

"One morning in summer, while seated so snug,
In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug,
Stern Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear,
And said, 'Honest Thomas, come take your last bier;'
We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can,
From which let us drink to the health of my Nan."

"Psha!" said the Doctor, "I've heard that song before; here's a new one
for you, boys!" and Sawbones began, in a rich Corkagian voice--