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We met old Guzzle one day, with a terrible black eye.
“Ah!” said we to the interesting individual, “bad eye
that.”

“Yes, that 'ere 's a architectural eye.”

We asked an explanation.

“I say this 'ere 's a architectural eye, because I got it
from the Elizabethan architecture of our house.”

We were in the dark as much as ever.

“T' other night,” continued he, “I went home partially
tight. I say partially, for, 'pon my honor, I had drank
but seven times during the evening. I felt my way up
by the wainscoting, because I did n't want to make a
noise, and when I got to the top, I forgot what a deuced
wide staircase it was, and when I turned to go towards
my door, what does I do but walks right down stairs
again, a good deal faster than I went up, and struck my
head agin the corner-post, and be hanged to it! Bad
eye, is n't it? And all from that infernal Elizabethan
stairway.”

We thought that the fault lay with the rum.

p677-291

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