“D'ye think so?” said Mr. Pumblechook, with his former laugh.

“Have another glass!”

“With you. Hob and nob,” returned the sergeant. “The top of mine to the foot of yours, — the foot of yours to the top of mine, — Ring once, ring twice, — the best tune on the Musical Glasses! Your health. May you live a thousand years, and never be a worse judge of the right sort than you are at the present moment of your life!”

The sergeant tossed off his glass again and seemed quite ready for another glass.

I noticed that Mr. Pumblechook in his hospitality appeared to forget that he had made a present of the wine, but took the bottle from Mrs. Joe and had all the