“’Without boasting, I trust I may say so.  These little sacrifices of mine are not without their own appropriate compensations.  Indeed, it is seldom that such stretches of duty on the right side, and for the improvement of others, are made altogether in vain.  For instance, after the humility—­if I can call it so—­of the third cup, I am rewarded with an easy uprising of the spiritual man—­a greater sense of inward freedom—­an elevation of the soul—­a benign beatitude of spirit, that diffuses a calm, serene happiness through my whole being.’

“‘That, sir, must be delightful.’

“’It is delightful, but it is what these men—­carnal I do not wish to call them lest I fall—­it is, however, what these men—­or, indeed, any merely carnal man, cannot feel.  This, however, I feel to be a communication made to me, that in this thing I should not for the time stop; and I feel that I am not free to pass the fourth or fifth cup, knowing as how greater freedom and additional privileges will be granted.’

“‘Are the stages marked, sir, between the fourth and fifth tumblers?’

“’Cups, my friend—­there is a beauty, sir, in the economy of this that is not to be concealed.  For instance, the line between the third and fourth cups is much better marked, and no doubt for wiser purposes, than is that between the fourth and fifth.  At the fourth my spirit is filled with strong devotional tendencies—­and it is given to me to address the Lodge with something like unctional effect; but at the fifth this ecstatic spirit rises still higher, and assumes the form of praise, and psalms, spiritual songs, and political anthems.  In this whole assembly, I am sorry to say, that there is but one other humble individual who, if I may so speak, is similarly gifted, and goes along with me, pari passu, as they say, step by step, and cup by cup, until we reach the highest order, which is praise.  But, indeed, to persons so gifted in their liquor, drinking is decidedly a religious exercise.  That person is the little fellow to the right of the red-faced man up yonder, the little fellow I mean, who is pale in the face and wants an eye.  His name is Bob Spaight; he is grand cobbler, by appointment, to the Lodge, and attends all the Popish executions in the province, from principle; for he is, between you and me, a Christian man of high privileges.  As for our little touches of melodia sacra during the fifth cup, the only drawback is, that no matter what the measure of the psalm be, whether long or short, Bob is sure to sing it either to the tune of Croppies lie Down, or the Boyne Water, they being the only two he can manage; a circumstance which forces us, however otherwise united, to part company in the melody, unless when moved by compassion for poor Bob, I occasionally join him in Croppies lie Down or the other tune, for the purpose of sustaining him as a Christian and Orangeman.’

“At this time it was with something like effort that he or I could hear each other as we spoke, and, by the way, it was quite evident that little Solomon was very nearly in all his glory, from the very slight liquefaction of language which, might be observed in his conversation.