That's one of my hoops"-- touching it with his elbow--"that's one of mine, and that, and that, and all these." "Ah, Sam was a man," said Mr.Penny, contemplatively.
"Sam was!" said Bowman.
"Especially for a drap o' drink," said the tranter.
"Good, but not religious-good," suggested Mr.Penny.
The tranter nodded.

Having at last made the tap and hole quite ready, "Now then, Suze, bring a mug," he said.

"Here's luck to us, my sonnies!" The tap went in, and the cider immediately squirted out in a horizontal shower over Reuben's hands, knees, and leggings, and into the eyes and neck of Charley, who, having temporarily put off his grief under pressure of more interesting proceedings, was squatting down and blinking near his father.
"There 'tis again!" said Mrs.Dewy.
"Devil take the hole, the cask, and Sam Lawson too, that good cider should be wasted like this!" exclaimed the tranter.

"Your thumb! Lend me your thumb, Michael! Ram it in here, Michael! I must get a bigger tap, my sonnies." "Idd it cold inthide te hole ?" inquired Charley of Michael, as he continued in a stooping posture with his thumb in the cork-hole.
"What wonderful odds and ends that chiel has in his head to be sure!" Mrs.Dewy admiringly exclaimed from the distance.

"I lay a wager that he thinks more about how 'tis inside that barrel than in all the other parts of the world put together." All persons present put on a speaking countenance of admiration for the cleverness alluded to, in the midst of which Reuben returned.