`"The light of the body is the eye,"' observed Hargrave, with a sarcastic smile. `"If thine eye be single thy whole body shall be full of light."'

Grimsby repulsed him with a solemn wave of the hand, and then, turning to me, continued, with the same drawling tones, and strange uncertainty of utterance and heavy gravity of aspect as before, `But as I was saying, Mrs. Huntingdon,--they have no head at all: they can't take half a bottle without being affected some way; whereas I--well, I've taken three times as much as they have to-night, and you see I'm perfectly steady. Now that may strike you as very singular, but I think I can explain it:--you see their brains--I mention no names, but you'll understand to whom I allude--their brains are light to begin with, and the fumes of the fermented liquor render them lighter still, and produce an entire light-headedness, or giddiness, resulting in intoxication; whereas my brains being composed of more solid materials will absorb a considerable quantity of this alcoholic vapour without the production of any sensible result--'

`I think you will find a sensible result produced on that tea,' interrupted Mr. Hargrave, `by the quantity of sugar you have put into it. Instead of your usual complement of one lump you have put in six.'

`Have I so?' replied the philosopher, diving with his spoon into the cup and bringing up several half-dissolved pieces in confirmation of the assertion. `Um! I perceive. Thus, Madam, you see the evil of absence of mind--of thinking too much while engaged in the common concerns of life. Now if I had my wits about me, like ordinary men, instead of within me like a philosopher, I should not have spoiled this cup of tea, and been constrained to trouble you for another.--With your permission, I'll turn this into the slop-basin.'

`That is the sugar-basin, Mr. Grimsby. Now you have spoiled the sugar too; and I'll thank you to ring for some more--for here is Lord Lowborough, at last; and I hope his lordship will condescend to sit down with us, such as we are, and allow me to give him some tea.

His lordship gravely bowed in answer to my appeal, but said nothing. Meantime, Hargrave volunteered to ring for the sugar, while Grimsby lamented his mistake, and attempted to prove that it was owing to the shadow of the urn and the badness of the lights.

Lord Lowborough had entered a minute or two before, unobserved by any one but me, and been standing before the door, grimly surveying the company. He now stepped up to Annabella, who sat with her back towards him, with Hattersley still beside her, though not now attending to her, being occupied in vociferously abusing and bullying his host.

`Well, Annabella,' said her husband, as he leant over the back of her chair, `which of these three "bold, manly spirits" would you have me to resemble?'

`By Heaven and earth, you shall resemble us all!' cried Hattersley, starting up and rudely seizing him by the arm. `Hallo Huntingdon!' he shouted-- `I've got him! Come, man, and help me! And d--n me body and soul if I don't make him blind drunk before I let him go! He shall make up for all past delinquencies as sure as I'm a living soul!'

There followed a disgraceful contest; Lord Lowborough, in desperate earnest, and pale with anger, silently struggling to release himself from the powerful madman that was striving to drag him from the room. I attempted to urge Arthur to interfere in behalf of his outraged guest, but he could do nothing but laugh.

`Huntingdon, you fool, come and help me, can't you!' cried Hattersley, himself somewhat weakened by his excesses.

`I'm wishing you God-speed, Hattersley,' cried Arthur, `and aiding you with my prayers: I can't do anything else if my life depended on it! I'm quite used up. Oh, ho!' and leaning back in his seat, he clapped his hands on his sides and groaned aloud.