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“Nonsense! Don’t let me ever again hear of this foolishness.”

And then the old man mingled with the happy company.

“Come, James, you must drink with me, too,” the mother said, a little while afterward.

Haley did not seem unwilling, but turned off a glass of wine with an air of real pleasure.

“You must drink with me, too,” went through the room. Every little while some one, with whom the young man had on former occasions refused to drink, finding out that he had been driven from his cold-water resolutions, insisted upon taking a glass with him. Such being the case, it is not to be wondered at that a remark like this should be made before the passage of an hour.

“See! As I live, Haley’s getting lively!”

“I think that ‘rich and generous wine’ is beginning to brighten you up a little,” Mr. Manley said, about this time, slapping his son-in-law familiarly upon the shoulder?

“I feel very happy, sir,” was Haley’s reply.

“That’s right. This is a happy occasion.”

“I never was so happy in my life! I hardly know what to do with myself. Come! Won’t you take some wine with me. I drank with you a little while ago.”

“Certainly! Certainly! My boy! Or, perhaps you would try a little brandy.”

“No objection,” said the young man. And then the two went to the side-board, and each took a stiff glass of brandy.

“That’s capital! It makes me feel good!” ejaculated Haley, as he set his empty glass down.

Cotillions were now formed, and the bride and groom took the floor in the first set. Clara felt very proud of her husband as she leaned upon his arm, waiting for the music to begin, and glanced around upon her maiden companions with a look of triumph. But she soon had cause to abate her exultation, for when the music struck up, and the dancers commenced their intricate movements, she found that her husband blundered so as to throw all into confusion. The reason of this instantly flashed upon her mind, for she knew him to be a correct and graceful dancer. He was too much intoxicated to dance! Her woman’s pride caused her to make the effort to guide him through the figures. But it was of no use. The second attempt failed signally by his breaking the figures, and reeling with a loud, drunken laugh, through and through, and round and round the astonished group of dancers, thrown thus suddenly into confusion.

Poor Clara, overwhelmed with mortification, retired to a seat, while her husband continued his antics, ending them finally with an Indian whoop, such as may often be heard late at night in the streets, from a company of drunken revellers,–when he sought her out, and came and took a seat by her side.

“Aint you happy to-night, Clara! Aint you, old girl!” he said, in a loud voice, striking her with his open hand upon the shoulder. “I’m so happy that I feel just ready to jump out of my skin! Whoop!–Now see how beautifully I can cut a pigeon’s-wing.”

And he sprang from his seat, and commenced describing the elegant figure he had named, with industrious energy, much to the amusement of one portion of the company, but to the painful mortification of another. A circle was soon formed around him, to witness his graceful movements, which strongly reminded those present who had witnessed the performances, of a corn-field negro’s Juba, or the double-shuffle.

“Come,” old Mr. Manley said, interrupting the young man in his evolutions, by laying his hand upon his arm.

“Come! I want you a moment.”

“Hel-lel-lel-lo, o-o, there! What’s wanting? ha!” he said, pausing, and then staggering forwards against Mr Manley. “Who are you, sir?”

“For shame, sir!” the old man replied in a stern voice. “Come with me, I wish to speak to you.”

“Speak here, then, will you? I’ve no se-se-secrets. I’m open and above board! Jim Haley’s the boy that knows what he’s about! Who-o-o-oop! Clear the track there!”