“I’ll tell you wot it is, Samivel, my boy,” whispered the old gentleman into his son’s ear, after a long and steadfast contemplation of his lady and Mr. Stiggins; “I think there must be somethin’ wrong in your mother-in-law’s inside, as vell as in that o’ the red-nosed man.”

“Wot do you mean?” said Sam.

“I mean this here, Sammy,” replied the old gentleman, “that wot they drink, don’t seem no nourishment to ’em; it all turns to warm water, and comes a-pourin’ out o’ their eyes. ’Pend upon it, Sammy, it’s a constitootional infirmity.”