Alas, alas, how these vanities do catch hold of us! My recollections have made me quite feverish and thirsty.

Is there any cold punch in the bowl?
Thank you, O'Malley, that will do,--merely to touch my lips.

Well, well, it's all past and gone now; but I was very fond of Tolly Hackett, and she was of me.
We used to take our little evening walks together through the coffee plantation: very romantic little strolls they were, she in white muslin with a blue sash and blue shoes; I in a flannel jacket and trousers, straw hat and cravat, a Virginia cigar as long as a walking-stick in my mouth, puffing and courting between times; then we'd take a turn to the refining-house, look in at the big boilers, quiz the niggers, and come back to Twangberry Moss to supper, where old Hackett, the father, sported a glorious table at eleven o'clock.

Great feeding it was; you were always sure of a preserved monkey, a baked land-crab, or some such delicacy.

And such Madeira; it makes me dry to think of it.
"Talk of West India slavery, indeed.