The rage of the ministers knew no bounds, and looks of defiance and even threats were exchanged between the ministers and the deserters.

Amidst all this poor Harry fell fast asleep and dreamed that he was once more in Exchequer Street, presiding among the monks, and mixing another tumbler.

At length he awoke and looked about him.

The clerk was just at the instant reading out, in his usual routine manner, a clause of the new bill, and the remainder of the House was in dead silence.

Harry looked again around on every side, wondering where was the hot water, and what had become of the whiskey bottle, and above all, why the company were so extremely dull and ungenial.
At length, with a half-shake, he roused up a little, and giving a look of unequivocal contempt on every side, called out, 'Upon my soul, you're pleasant companions; but I'll give you a chant to enliven you!' So saying, he cleared his throat with a couple of short coughs, and struck up, with the voice of a Stentor, the following verse of a popular ballad:-- 'And they nibbled away, both night and day, Like mice in a round of Glo'ster; Great rogues they were all, both great and small, From Flood to Leslie Foster.
Great rogues all.
Chorus, boys!' If he was not joined by the voices of his friends in the song, it was probably because such a roar of laughing never was heard since the walls were roofed over.