and giving him a blow, which took effect on his other and hitherto undamaged eye, cried out, "I'll teach you, you blood-sucker, (i. e. parasite) to spunge upon those as has expectations. I'll teach you to cozen the heir of the "Mug," you snivelling, whey-faced ghost of a farthing rushlight. What! you'll lend my Paul three crowns, will you? when you knows as how you told me you could not pay me a pitiful tizzy. Oh, you're a queer one, I warrants; but you won't queer Margery Lobkins. Out of my ken, you cur of the mange—out of my ken; and if ever I claps my sees on you again, or if ever I knows as how you makes a flat of my Paul, blow me tight, but I'll weave you a hempen collar: I'll hang you, you dog, I will. What! you will answer me, will you?—O you viper, budge, and begone!"
It was in vain that Dummie protested his innocence. A violent coup de pied broke off all farther parlance. He made a clear house of the "Mug;" and the landlady thereof, tottering back to her elbow chair, sought out another pipe, and, like all imaginative persons when the world goes
