Death to all masters, life to all
'prentices, and love to all fair damsels. Drink, brave general, and warm
your gallant heart!'
Mr Tappertit condescended to take the glass from his outstretched hand.
Stagg then dropped on one knee, and gently smoothed the calves of his
legs, with an air of humble admiration.
'That I had but eyes!' he cried, 'to behold my captain's symmetrical
proportions! That I had but eyes, to look upon these twin invaders of
domestic peace!'
'Get out!' said Mr Tappertit, glancing downward at his favourite limbs.
'Go along, will you, Stagg!'
'When I touch my own afterwards,' cried the host, smiting them
reproachfully, 'I hate 'em. Comparatively speaking, they've no more
shape than wooden legs, beside these models of my noble captain's.'
'Yours!' exclaimed Mr Tappertit. 'No, I should think not. Don't talk
about those precious old toothpicks in the same breath with mine; that's
rather too much. Here. Take the glass. Benjamin. Lead on. To business!'
With these words, he folded his arms again; and frowning with a sullen
majesty, passed with his companion through a little door at the upper
end of the cellar, and disappeared; leaving Stagg to his private
meditations.
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