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REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Bless me! that accounts for the young gentleman's
melancholy. I thought they would overreach themselves with their own tricks. The
day of reckoning, Mr. Mac Quedy, is the point which your paper-money science
always leaves out of view.
MR. MAC QUEDY. I do not see, sir, that the failure of Catchflat and Company
has anything to do with my science.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. It has this to do with it, sir, that you would turn the whole
nation into a great paper-money shop, and take no thought of the day of
reckoning. But the dinner is coming. I think you, who are so fond of paper
promises, should dine on the bill of fare.
The harper at the head of the hall struck up an ancient march, and the dishes
were brought in, in grand procession.
The boar's head, garnished with rosemary, with a citron in its mouth, led the van.
Then came tureens of plum-porridge; then a series of turkeys, and in the midst of
them an enormous sausage, which it required two men to carry. Then came
geese and capons, tongues and hams, the ancient glory of the Christmas pie, a
gigantic plum pudding, a pyramid of mince pies, and a baron of beef bringing up
the rear.
"It is something new under the sun," said the divine, as he sat down, "to see a
great dinner without fish."
MR. CHAINMAIL. Fish was for fasts in the twelfth century.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Well, sir, I prefer our reformed system of putting fasts and
feasts together. Not but here is ample indemnity.
Ale and wine flowed in abundance. The dinner passed off merrily: the old harper
playing all the while the oldest music in his repertory. The tables being cleared,
he indemnified himself for lost time at the lower end of the hall, in company with
the old butler and the other domestics, whose attendance on the banquet had
been indispensable.
The scheme of Christmas gambols, which Mr. Chainmail had laid for the evening,
was interrupted by a tremendous clamour without.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. What have we here? Mummers?
MR. CHAINMAIL. Nay, I know not. I expect none.
"Who is there?" he added, approaching the door of the hall.
"Who is there?" vociferated the divine, with the voice of Stentor.
"Captain Swing," replied a chorus of discordant voices.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Ho, ho! here is a piece of the dark ages we did not bargain
for. Here is the Jacquerie. Here is the march of mind with a witness.
MR. MAC QUEDY. Do you not see that you have brought disparates together?
the Jacquerie and the march of mind.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Not at all, sir. They are the same thing, under different
names. [Greek text]. What was Jacquerie in the dark ages is the march of mind
in this very enlightened one--very enlightened one.
MR. CHAINMAIL. The cause is the same in both; poverty in despair.
MR. MAC QUEDY. Very likely; but the effect is extremely disagreeable.
REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. It is the natural result, Mr. Mac Quedy, of that system of
state seamanship which your science upholds. Putting the crew on short