Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
475 a card-case without the top; an empty purse; a watch-guard snapped asunder; a handful of silver, mingled with fragments of half-smoked cigars, and their stale and crumbled ashes;--these, and many other tokens of riot and disorder, hinted very intelligibly at the nature of last night’s gentlemanly frolics. Lord Frederick Verisopht was the first to speak. Dropping his slippered foot on the ground, and, yawning heavily, he struggled into a sitting posture, and turned his dull languid eyes towards his friend, to whom he called in a drowsy voice. ‘Hallo!’ replied Sir Mulberry, turning round. ‘Are we going to lie here all da-a-y?’ said the lord. ‘I don’t know that we’re fit for anything else,’ replied Sir Mulberry; ‘yet awhile, at least. I haven’t a grain of life in me this morning.’ ‘Life!’ cried Lord Verisopht. ‘I feel as if there would be nothing so snug and comfortable as to die at once.’ ‘Then why don’t you die?’ said Sir Mulberry. With which inquiry he turned his face away, and seemed to occupy himself in an attempt to fall asleep. His hopeful fiend and pupil drew a chair to the breakfast-table, and essayed to eat; but, finding that impossible, lounged to the window, then loitered up and down the room with his hand to his fevered head, and finally threw himself again on his sofa, and roused his friend once more. ‘What the devil’s the matter?’ groaned Sir Mulberry, sitting upright on the couch. Although Sir Mulberry said this with sufficient ill-humour, he did not seem to feel himself quite at liberty to remain silent; for, after stretching himself very often, and declaring with a shiver |