seemed, to a very shrewd observer, a little wandering and absent, yet,
upon the whole, he was almost as much at ease as the rest, and if he
was not quite as talkative he was to the full as noisy.

By degrees, as the hour grew later and the barrel less heavy, the
conversation changed into one universal clatter. Some told their
feats in beggary; others, their achievements in theft; not a viand
they had fed on but had its appropriate legend; even the old rabbit,
which had been as tough as old rabbit can well be, had not been
honestly taken from his burrow; no less a person than Mim himself had
purloined it from a widow's footman who was carrying it to an old maid
from her nephew the Squire.

"Silence," cried the host, who loved talking as well as the rest, and
who for the last ten minutes had been vainly endeavouring to obtain
attention. "Silence! my maunders, it's late, and we shall have the
queer cuffins [magistrates] upon us if we keep it up much longer.
What, ho, Mim, are you still gabbling at the foot of the table when
your betters are talking? As sure as my name's King Cole, I'll choke
you with your own rabbit skin, if you don't hush your prating cheat,--
nay, never look so abashed: if you will make a noise, come forward,
and sing us a gypsy song. You see, my young sir," turning to his
guest, "that we are not without our pretensions to the fine arts."

At this order, Mim started forth, and taking his station at the right
hand of the soi-disant King Cole, began the following song, the chorus
of which was chanted in full diapason by the whole group, with the
additional force of emphasis that knives, feet, and fists could
bestow:--