The Tower Of London by W. Harrison Ainsworth

His request was immediately complied with, and it was pleasant to behold with what inconceivable rapidity slice after slice disappeared. In a brief space, a few bare bones were all that remained of the once-lordly joint. Magog’s brethren watched his progress with truly fraternal interest. Their own appetites being satisfied, they had full leisure to minister to his wants; and most sedulously did they attend to them. A brisket of veal, steeped in verjuice, supplied the place of the sirloin, and a hare-pie, in due season, that of the veal.

Magog acknowledged these attentions with grateful murmurings. He was too busy to speak. When the hare-pie, which was of a somewhat savoury character, was entirely consumed, he paused for a moment, and pointed significantly to a large measure of wine at some little distance from him. Og immediately stretched out his arm, and handed it to him. Nodding to his brother, the married giant drained its contents at a draught, and then applied himself with new ardour to the various dishes with which his plate was successively laden.

“What would your wife say, if she could see you now?” observed Peter Trusbut, who sat opposite to him, and witnessed his proceedings with singular satisfaction.

“Don’t mention her,” rejoined Magog, bolting a couple of cheesecakes which he had crammed, at the same time, into his capacious mouth; “don’t mention her, or you will take away my appetite.”

“No fear of that,” laughed the pantler; “but what say you to a glass of distilled waters? It will be a good wind-up to your meal, and aid digestion.”

“With all my heart,” rejoined the giant.

The pantler then handed a stone bottle, holding perhaps a quart, and knowing his propensities, thought it needful to caution him as to the strength of the liquid. Disregarding the hint, Magog emptied the greater part of the spirit into a flagon, and tossed it off, as if it had been water. Peter Trusbut held up his hands in amazement, and expected to see the giant drop senseless under the table. But no such event followed. The only consequence of the potent draught being that it brought the water into his eyes, and made him gasp a little to recover his breath.

“How do you feel after it, brother?” inquired Og, slapping him on the shoulder.

“So valiant,” hiccupped Magog, “that I think when I get home, I shall assert my proper position as a lord of the creation.”

“Act up to that resolution, Master Magog,” observed the pantler, laughing, “and I shall not think my liquor thrown away.”

“If such be its effect,” said Xit, who, it has before been remarked, had an unconquerable tendency to imitate, and, if possible, exceed the extravagancies of his companions, “I will e’en try a drop of it myself.”

And before he could be prevented, the mannikin applied the stone bottle to his lips, and drained it to the last drop. If Magog’s brain was sufficiently stolid to resist the effect of the fiery liquid, Xit’s was not. Intoxication speedily displayed itself in the additional brilliancy of his keen sparkling little orbs, and in all his gestures. At first, his antics created much diversion, and he was allowed to indulge them freely; but before long he became so outrageous and mischievous, that it was found necessary to restrain him. Springing upon the table, he cut the most extraordinary capers among the dishes, breaking several of them, upsetting the flagons and pots of wine, tweaking the noses of the male guests, kissing the females, and committing a hundred other monkey tricks.

On being called to order, he snapped his fingers in the face of the reprover, and conceiving himself especially affronted by Gog, he threw a goblet at his head. Luckily, the missile was caught before it reached its mark. He next seized a torch, and perceiving that Magog had fallen asleep, set fire to his beard, to arouse him. Starting to his feet, the giant clapped his hand to his chin—too late, however, to save a particle of his hirsute honours. His rage was terrific. Roaring like a wild bull, he vowed he would be the death of the offender; and would have kept his word, if it had not been for his brethren, who, seizing each an arm, restrained him by main strength, and forced him into his seat, where, after a few minutes, his anger gave way to laughter.

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