The curse
of God on him wherever he goes!"
Woodward provided himself, however, with another horse, and in due time
set out for the Spa at Ballyspellan.
The dinner was now fixed for a certain day, and Squire Manifold
felt himself in high spirits as often as he could recollect the
circumstance--which, indeed, was but rarely, the worthy epicure's memory
having nearly abandoned him. Topertoe, of the gout, and he were
old acquaintances and companions, and had spent many a merry night
together--both, as the proverb has it, being tarred with the same stick.
Topertoe was as great a glutton as the other, but without his desperate
voracity in food, whilst in drink he equalled if he did not surpass him.
Manifold would have forgotten every thing about the dinner had he not
from time to time been reminded of it by his companion.
"Manifold, we will have a great day on Thursday."
"Great!" exclaimed Manifold, who in addition to his other stupidities,
was as deaf as a post; "great--eh? What size will it be?"
"What size will it be? Why, confound it, man, don't you know what I'm
saying?"
"No, I don't--yes, I do--you are talking about something great.
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