The persons assembled were in every way worthy of the place and its
dependencies. Seated fronting the fire was our friend Teddy Phats, which
was the only name he was ever known by, his wild, beetle brows lit into
a red, frightful glare of savage mirth that seemed incapable, in its
highest glee, to disengage itself entirely from an expression of the
man's unquenchable ferocity. Opposite to him sat a tall, smut-faced,
truculent-looking young fellow, with two piercing eyes and a pair of
grim brows, which, when taken into conjunction with a hard, unfeeling
mouth, from the corners of which two right lines ran down his chin,
giving that part of his face a most dismal expression, constituted
a countenance that matched exceedingly well with the visage of Teddy
Phats. This worthy gentleman was a tinker, and one of Hogan's brothers,
whom we have already introduced to our readers. Scattered about the fire
and through the cavern were a party of countrymen who came to purchase
whiskey for a wedding, and three or four publicans and shebeenmen who
had come on professional business. Some were drinking, some indulging in
song, and some were already lying drunk or asleep in different parts
of this subterraneous pandemonium. Exalted in what was considered the
position of honor sat a country hedge-schoolmaster, his mellow eye
beaming with something between natural humor, a sense of his own
importance, and the influence of pure whiskey, fresh it is called, from
the Still-eye.
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