“Horrid paws!” vociferated Mrs. J——­, in a towering rage, “so would yours, let me tell you, sir, if you had helped to cook all that dinner”:  and gathering herself up and repeating the words “horrid paws, indeed, I like your imperence,” she sailed out of the room like an exasperated turkey-cock; her face, from heat, anger, and the quantity she had drank, being as red as her gown.  Indeed, she looked for all the world as if she had been put into a furnace and blown red hot.  Jorrocks having got rid of his “worser half,” as he calls her, let out a reef or two of his acre of white waistcoat, and each man made himself comfortable according to his acceptation of the term.  “Gentlemen,” says Jorrocks, “I’ll trouble you to charge your glasses, ’eel-taps off—­a bumper toast—­no skylights, if you please.  Crane, pass the wine—­you are a regular old stop-bottle—­a turnpike gate, in fact.  I think you take back hands—­gentlemen, are you all charged?—­then I’ll give you THE NOBLE SPORT OF FOX-’UNTING! gentlemen, with three times three, and Crane will give the ’ips—­all ready—­now, ip, ’ip, ’ip, ’uzza, ’uzza, ’uzza—­’ip, ’ip, ’ip, ’uzza, ’uzza, ’uzza—­’ip, ’ip, ’ip, ’uzza, ’uzza, ’uzza.—­one cheer more, ’UZZA!” After this followed “The Merry Harriers,” then came “The Staggers,” after that “The Trigger, and bad luck to Cheatum,” all bumpers; when Jorrocks, having screwed his courage up to the sticking-place, called for another, which being complied with, he rose and delivered himself as follows: 

“Gentlemen, in rising to propose the toast which I am now about to propose—­I feel—­I feel—­(Yorkshireman—­’very queer?’) J——­ No, not verry queer, and I’ll trouble you to hold your jaw (laughter).  Gentlemen, I say, in rising to propose the toast which I am about to give, I feel—­I feel—­(Crane—­’werry nervous?’) J——­ No, not werry nervous, so none of your nonsense; let me alone, I say.  I say, in rising to propose the toast which I am about to give, I feel—­(Mr. Spiers—­’very foolish?’ Nimrod—­’very funny?’ Crane—­’werry rum?’) J——­ No, werry proud of the distinguished honour that has been conferred upon me—­conferred upon me—­conferred upon me—­distinguished honour that has been conferred upon me by the presence, this day, of one of the most distinguished men—­distinguished men—­by the presence, this day, of one of the most distinguished men and sportsmen—­of modern times (cheers.) Gentlemen—­this is the proudest moment of my life! the eyes of England are upon us!  I give you the health of Mr. Happerley Nimrod.” (Drunk with three times three.)

When the cheering, and dancing of the glasses had somewhat subsided, Nimrod rose and spoke as follows: 

“Mr. Jorrocks, and gentlemen”,